


Send me an Owl

by Dagny_Fischer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 84
Words: 238,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagny_Fischer/pseuds/Dagny_Fischer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The sacrifice his elf made to bring him back from the dead granted him his nickname. Now Kíli Elvenblood is King Under the Mountain and is happy to host Bilbo and his fellows for a hobbit wedding. But things are not easy for Durin's line… Kíli/OC, Bilbo/OC and much more! Sequel to "Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

My name was Ellen, with a surname doesn`t matter anymore. I was born human, in a world out of the circles of Arda, called Earth. Then I stumbled into Middle-Earth with my two nieces, thanks to an enchanted map, and found myself being an elf. Then I offered my services to a dwarven king in exile so I could reach the only place from where I could get myself and my nieces back home. Then I was adopted as sister by two noble dwarven warriors. Then I gave up my undying elf life to save the life of the one I love. Now I`m called Ellen Dwarvenheart, daughter of Fundin, and these are some letters and stories from my family.

* * *

Letters from Bilbo, Iris, Ellen, Wolfram and other characters from “Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart”, plus lots of adventure!

* * *

 

_Valinor_

He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes a slit. It was too clear around, though he could no figure out where the sun might be. It was not cold, it was not warm, and he was not hungry. Everything was comfortable, more than he had been comfortable for a long time. He noticed his shoulder and other wounds didn’t bother him anymore, either. He was tired, though, and closed his eyes to sleep a bit more.

 

* * *

 

He woke up with the feeling of being observed, and sat up at once, startled. He could not see his observer, and begun to search the place, warily. It was not as full of light as before, and he felt the place he was sleeping on was not as smooth, although his muscles felt perfectly rested.

It was a large stone room, and he didn’t figure out what kind of place was that. He saw two hearths, one on each side of the room, the closest one meant for comfort, with its golden flames licking... what? That was not wood, at least didn’t look like wood. It looked more like... stones. Burning stones. Now he was sure he had seen everything in this world.

The heat of the fire made him feel thirsty and then saw a water flagon on a table nearby, and a mug he was sure he didn’t see there before. He poured some water in the mug, warily, but the water didn’t make anything unexpected. It was crystal clear, no smell, and he decided to take a probing sip. Water. Plain water, refreshing, tasteless, water. He drank it down in small sips, exploring the place with slow steps. Somehow, he knew he didn’t have to haste.

There were tools on the wall, and scattered on a workbench were several pieces of handiwork in different stages of completeness. Most of them he could not understand, but some were quite what he was used to make himself. He felt a sting in his heart thinking how long it had been since he used a forge last time. It felt worse when he remembered when it actually was. He sighed and shook his head, sad. There was nothing he could do now. Only wait.

He left the water mug on the workbench when he noticed a particularly known object on the other side of the room, close to the forge hearth, and went for it. There was an anvil, and an unfinished war axe waiting to be worked on, the metal glowing red, begging to be hammered, shaped into what it was meant to become. If he was left in that room for any reason at all, this might well be the reason. That axe was calling for him, and he yearned for the heat of the forge, the weight of the hammer in his hand, the sound of metal against metal reverberating through his whole body. He smiled to himself when he took the axe with a tong and lifted the hammer to hit it where it should. His hand fell down with all the weight of the hammer and of his own will on the axe head.

The pain hit him at the same moment, making him release the tools and throwing him seven feet away from the anvil. Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he sat up and rubbed his chest where the pain hit him. It was not even sore to the touch, making it all more incomprehensible. He was scrambling to his feet when a shadow moved to be between him and the fire.

“You should not play with tools that are not meant for you, child, even if you feel inclined to fix things as soon as you may. I’m glad to see you are so willing to make things right, though, as last time it took you absurdly long to take this step.”

He looked at the one who spoke to him, wide eyed. He never heard that voice before, not outside his dreams, and he knew to whom it belonged.

“Mahal...”

The newcomer took the tools from where they’d fell and put them back into place; then he took the unfinished war axe, the metal still glowing red, with his bare hands and put it back on the forge to heat up again; then he straightened his tough leather apron with his hands and turned back to him.

“Yes, that is it. Now, close your mouth before you start dribbling, it’s not like we never met.”

The owner of the place beckoned him to a chair at the table where the water flagon was and made himself comfortable, filling a mug that wasn’t there until that moment. The flagon poured red wine.

“Now, where are we? Aye, you have done a good job, child. Fulfilled what you swore, that’s it.”

He got dizzy, and held his head down until he felt better. Comprehension of where he was, and in front of whom, overwhelmed him.

“My Lord, I...”

“Hush, hush, child, I know, I know... Now, stand up, take a chair, we have much to talk, and no hurry. No need for apologies and kneeling stuff, not here, child.”

Then he remembered everything. He had taken his people out of Erebor, and moved to the Gray Mountains. It had been a mistake, a decision made out of pride, and his people paid dearly for it. Dain I, the son of his grandson, was slain by a great cold-drake because of that decision, and Frór, Dain’s second son also. But the firstborn, Thrór, moved his people back to Erebor, making the right decision. He wanted to help him, to compensate for having moved his people out of Erebor so long ago, and begged to go back and help to restore the glory of the halls of his people, that had been lost in great measure because of him. He promised. And he went.

“I... I didn’t know that it was a plan to mend things I’ve done wrong before. I... I just loved Erebor fiercely, and when it was taken by Smaug... I just had to take it back.”

“So, there was none as fit as you to do this deed, don’t you think so?” He poured himself more wine, and from the same flagon poured more water for the one who had just arrived from Middle-Earth. “You cannot retain the memory of before when you’re down there, like when you are here, else you would get insane. One life is enough for one to deal in just a lifetime. Now, here, we can talk about the whole story and take some decisions about your future.”

“I understand, my Lord.”

“So, let us see what has been left behind...”

 

* * *

 

_Earth_

A whole year went by, and eventually things settled as they would have to. Iris was studying furiously, and begun to take charge of the medicinal plants growth in the yard; she was also applying for a nursing technician course and had already made a first aid course and a fire brigade course too.

Lily lost the year in college while copping her grief, but once she uplifted her head there was nothing that could stop her from achieving her goals. She was alive, and decided that she would live, not only survive, and make her best, although she went in Ellen’s former ‘out of business’ mode.

Wolfram sat at the library certain morning, reading the newspaper, when through the open window an owl came in, a parchment tied to its talon. It found a place right in front of him to land down on the table, crooking his golden eyes to the man. Slowly and carefully, he reached for the bird and untied the silken ribbon with the parchment. The owl waited for a minute and flew away, silent as it came.

“Yes, a picture can tell more than a thousand words!” He said, looking at the open parchment; but there was another one, and words, too, lots of them.

 

“Dearest brother,

I hope the owl has found you, Dumbledore swore it would be easy for the bird to reach you once he could track the energy of Lily’s sword, as it was made here in Middle-Earth. Next time, if you are able, provide one or two mice as reward for the owl and you’ll be sure it will find you when needed.

It took me _years_ of negotiation to open this communication channel, so, please help to keep it open. There is a non-changing Gate between the Forbidden Forest in Hogwarts and Mirkwood. This means no mind blockage too, but if you ever send me a single word about the future it will not only be censored but all my efforts to negotiate this channel will be thrown into the recycle bin. I have not been able to negotiate the use of this Gate for personal use, yet, for the same reason. Next year wait for the owl with your letter already written, bind it in the bird’s leg and it will reach me. Now, I’ll try to condense last seven years happenings, else the owl will not be able to carry the parchment!

Bilbo went back to the Shire, accompanied by Gandalf, who would send word to Dís and the dwarves in the Blue Mountains to come and re-people Erebor. It seems Bilbo’s people thought he was dead and made a mess with his things, he had to re-buy most of his own belongings and it took him years to prove he was alive. When Dís came with her people Bilbo came along to attend to our wedding, and it snowed food and rained drink for three days. It was almost a year after the Battle of Five Armies, so even if in sorrow for not having Thorin and Fíli here, we were able to feast. Of course me and Kíli didn’t show our noses out of home in the second day of feasting, as this is the dwarven tradition, but be sure Dís and the Company provided that no guest has been unattended. I asked to have some of our world traditions present in the wedding, so my dress was white, but as I am counted as a warrior I had to wear some armor to show it, so I used silver vambraces and a light mithril full plate corselet. I had Tauriel and Arwen as my maidens at the wedding, as I had no family women here.

Dís is a sweetie, stubborn like Thorin Oakenshield; she was very saddened by the loss of both her brother and her first born son to war, but glad to have Kíli left; when our son was born she was in state of grace, as it was the first time in seventy nine years that her family was growing instead of dwindling. I am really blessed to have Dís here, she was so reassuring to me when the baby was born, as I panicked because he was so _tiny_ , but she calmed me explaining he was not _tiny_ , he just was a _dwarf_! Well, let me introduce you our youngling, we thought it would only be fair to pay homage to Kíli’s uncle in his name, so Durin’s line has already another _Thorin_. By the way, _Knee_ is how we use to call little Thorin to differentiate him from Thorin Oakenshield; you should see Kíli’s worry when the baby was born, because he had absolutely no experience with babies, and Kíli kept mumbling ‘W _hy does my son look like a knee?_ ’ until Dís whacked his head explaining he looked exactly that way when he was born. We already have another one on the way, our upcoming one will be Lyn, if a girl, after Balin and Dwalin’s sister, and if a dark-haired boy he will be Frérin, after Dís other brother, and if a blond then he will be Fíli, for the deceased one.

Kíli managed to grow a short beard already, it is no more that itchy stumbles, he even looks a bit more grown up. He has been quite a grown up king, too, having managed definite peace with the Mirkwood elves, and the ‘ _you can never trust an elf_ ’ quote became a joke. Dealings with Long-Lake have always been good, especially after the Master flew away with most of the gold that was sent to rebuild the town; seemingly he died of hunger in the Waste, deserted by his companions. Then the people chose another Master, more interested in his people’s needs than in his own, and he works together with Bard in Dale, as twin cities. Dale was rebuilt even fairer than it was of old, or at least so do sing the ones who knew it before Smaug came. These seven first years have been of much cleansing and rebuilding, but they were worthy the effort.

To make it short, as the parchment is ending, people have given us nicknames due to what happened in the Battle, like Thorin had his Oakenshield nickname due to what happened in the Battle of Azanulbizar; Bombur and Bofur have found their Jewels, so we may have more younglings among the Company members in the next years. As Durin’s people has decreased so much in the last two hundred years, we are making an effort to increase the birth rate amongst Erebor dwarves _leading by example_.

 

Love for ever,

Ellen Dwarvenheart, Fundinul”

 

In the other parchment there was a fine drawing of a sturdy short bearded dwarf, standing proudly holding in his arms a small boy with braids in his locks, and beside a chair where a longhaired elf sat smiling, her belly bulging with a midway term pregnancy. One acquainted to Anghertas runes would be able to read under the drawing:

“Erebor, Durin’s Day of the seventh year of the reign of Kíli Elvenblood, King Under the Mountain”

* * *

**Why you should not skip next chapter: Becase it shows how Earth knowledge can be applied to Middle-Earth even without he same technologies and resoureces, and how some of the Company's members are growing families.**

**This is the sequel to Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart. This prologue is the same as that story's epilogue, because they intermingle, and the second story can't start without the first one ending. Read on and you will understand the Tales of Mahal's Forge and everything that goes beside it.**

 


	2. Letters from 14th year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo,
> 
> I’ll kill you.
> 
> Aunty sent a letter last year and you didn’t. I will forgive you this time because you didn’t know there would be a post service.

T.A. 2955, Ellen to Wolfram

 

Erebor, New Year’s Day of the fourteenth year of the reign of Kili Elvenblood, King Under the Mountain

 

            Dear Brother,

            I hope this letter finds you and the girls healthy and happy and that Dumbledore’s owl didn’t forget the path to your library. Rärc, son of Röac, the noble raven who helped us when we first came to Erebor, told us Dumbledore’s owls may be or may not be completely reliable, but I don’t have any personal opinion in this matter. As I’m helping Dumbledore in other issues, I think things might be quite right regarding our tunneling.

            Our second baby is a dark haired boy, so Durin’s line already has another Frérin too; he is seven years old by now, he had his time as younger brother in being mischievous to Knee as any little brother would be but now that we have our little Lyn they both are the most unthinkable caring brothers one could fancy; at least, around her, amongst themselves they pester each one all the time.

            Dís is crazy because Kili has already three kids at an age she had none at all yet, but we know she is completely happy about it, mostly because she always dreamt to have a baby girl and had only sons and now she has a grand-daughter. I must handle Balin and Dwalin even more than her, because the kids are their only nephews and niece, and came when they didn’t even expect to have any heirs at all. So, the same they were my “watchdogs” before my wedding, now they spend every spare time spoiling my kids. So it is that in behalf of Balin, with the help of Dori, Erebor’s schoolmaster, the boys are already literate in this early age (for dwarven standards), and in behalf of Dwalin they know how to handle a small hammer or axe, especially throwing axes. You can imagine what my walls look like!

            Three years ago I spent half a year at Imladris, so Elrond could unblock my brains and train me in the ‘mind touching’ skill. Of course the memory of the future is completely buried somewhere none can reach. Kili was not very happy about my travelling, but understood it would be good not only for me but also for the kingdom to have means to know a bit of what people think, and for the boys to have some contact with elven culture; even so, I traveled there escorted by my Brothers and some loyal warriors not of the Company. Balin and Dwalin went to spend some time in the Shire, visiting Bilbo, and he sent a letter to Iris, if the owl didn’t lose it I bet a tuna can she will be happy. Unfortunately Arwen was back to her grand-mother’s home, but Elrond’s human step-son, the Estel boy Lily gave chocolate, was already a twenty-one grown young man, very nice to talk to. I taught him the ‘kill the dummies’ trick Thorin Oakenshield trained me into, it was fun. When it was to go back to Erebor Kili came himself to escort me and the kids, and I must confess we both were half crazy missing each other; be sure I couldn’t have found someone like him in any other world, and that I like very much the idea that the dwarven life span uses to reach two hundred fifty years. I really won’t mind spending one and half century beside him, and hopefully more, as he is only ninety one.

            By the way, the paths from Erebor to Imladris are quite better, as Legolas and Tauriel took on themselves the task of getting rid of the spiders, as Thranduil promised they could marry after all the spiders are gone. The Valar be thanked, King Ostrich may still be doing nothing, but at least doesn’t keep others of doing something! After the White Council made the Necromancer flee from Dol Guldur, the damned arachnids got weaker and dumber, easier to kill, as seemingly they were a kind of Acromantulas that escaped through the Forbidden Forest Gate and were hired by the Necromancer; without his domination, they are just big stupid spiders. Dumbledore and Hagrid managed it so that the Acromantulas cannot pass through that Gate any more, making it easier to finish with them here. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d bet Dumbledore is a NerdNet guy too, isn’t he? Ok, I know you won’t tell me, but I must make my guess anyway.

            Bofur and Bombur had their weddings the same day, six years ago, just to make it merrier; their Jewels are Zirc, a toy music box maker from the Iron Hills whom Bofur got to know at a trading fair party he organized, and Dahl, a cheesemonger who supplied us. They are sweeties, and the Company family is steadily growing, as Bofur and Zirc got a girl one year older than Lyn and Bombur and Dahl just got twin boys; Óin complains he is getting too old to midwife so many dwarflings, but it is obvious he is proud to help Erebor’s birth rate to increase. Of course it is not every dwarven couple that is as dedicated to it as me and Kili, as it _was_ commonplace to wait several years between children, but then we made a statistical survey that showed it was mostly because of the _cost_ of raising a child, not because of any lack of wanting children around. It explains why among high lineage families siblings use to be closer in age than among disadvantaged families. I know sometimes a ‘last of the Mohicans’ happens, but I observe people here are very responsible in procreative issues. It is astounding how Middle-Earth peoples have family planning knowledge and resources in this seemingly medieval culture, that in our Earth were almost unknown until the sixties’.  So, after the survey, we proposed some social support measures, and every child who is born has her share of food, clothes and studying classes, regardless of how much her parents earn. Healthcare is granted, too, but thankfully dwarven health is stronger than you can imagine. Usually, families who have the means to pay for it don’t use the social support, as Durin’s folk is a proud folk, always willing to give help but adamantly resistant to take it.

            Other thing that our survey pointed out was that there were many Compromised dwarves that didn’t marry because of the cost of having a three day long feast, as everyone wants to invite _all_ relatives and friends. This proud people would rather keep single than to marry having a small party! As it is strategic for the realm that our people grow, we provided to have all those couples getting married the same day, along with New Year’s Day five years ago, with the three day feasting at the expenses of the crown. Along with the social support for the children, we believe this will result in lots of work for Dori in schooling them and for Dwalin and Bifur in training them.

            I’ve been using what experience I have in heavy industry plants to take work safety measures, and, for what we know from other dwarven mines complexes, we reached an astoundingly low work accident rate, for Middle-Earth standards. Old fire brigade moto that says that the accident happens where prevention failed is completely true, and we are selling our consulting services advice in security measures, having people trained in risk evaluation, redundant safety items, and so on. Lots of fun!

            The whole Company sends their love to Lily and Iris, and regards to you. I really hope the Gate will work again, I can hardly wait another fourteen years to see you all!

            Love forever,

            Ellen Dwarvenheart, Fundinul

* * *

T.A. 2952, Bilbo to Iris

Hobbiton, January 25th, 1352 Shire Reckoning

 

            My dearest Iris, I miss you so much that I don’t know how to write this letter. My life has been silent since the day you jumped into Mirror Lake back to your electric showers and rock shows, leaving behind the empty shell of the hobbit I once was. Gandalf was right when he said that if I ever came back from that journey, I would not be the same. Even if I go on with my quiet Baggins life, with my books, my armchair, my food, everything lacks meaning when I look around and you are not here.

            The first years were quite busy for me, as I had to proof that I was alive to get my furniture back from the ones who bought it believing I was deceased, but this at least kept my mind from wandering along the paths we tread together. My cousin Lobelia pestered to death that I was not me, and finally I bought the silverware back from her to finish the matter. The best use I’m having for that ring is to vanish when the Sackville-Bagginses are around!

            Then, after having everything back in place, the garden tended, I sit on the bench in the front yard and smoke my pipe, and look at the road that leads to Bree, and to beyond, the road that goes ever on and on, and I think of you. You must have come of age by now, I suppose? Do you still think about this poor fellow? Life in the Shire probably would be boring to you, but I’d do my best to have you entertained and happy. You could punch me any day of the week if you wished, if only I could see your piece-of-the-sky eyes looking at me. You would love the Took side of my family, I swear.  

            Actually, the Tooks are the only who still respect me, all other families consider my reputation completely lost. If they knew how much I care for what they think about my reputation, my reputation would get even lower. Now I really regret not having insisted more with your father in letting you stay, as my reputation is already so low that marrying a girl not yet of age would do no harm to my reputation at all. What am I saying, your father would not allow, no matter what arguments I used, so, here I am, Iris, a lonely hobbit looking down the road and dreaming to see fire red locks flowing in the wind, a pair of twin swords shining under the sun and the most perfect mischievous smile in Middle-Earth tempting me. Then I wake up to my unsmoked pipe and have to deal with the fact that you are not here, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.

            Dwalin is here beside me and says that if I dare to cry as I write he will behead me with his axe, so, I’m finishing for now. Even if I have to travel to Erebor to do it, I’ll send you another letter when it is allowed.

            Please inform your father that I maintain my best intentions, as I have told him before, and that if he ever happens to “fall” into the Shire, he will be most welcome in my humble dwellings at any time. Send a warm hug to our Mischievous Company fellow Lily, I hope she smiles again.

            Yearning for you,

            Always,

            Bilbo Baggins

 

* * *

 

 

From Lily’s Notebook

 

Waiting Song

by Lily Grace, daughter of Wolfram

 

I look around and I cannot see

Where are your hands, so warm and strong

Powerful grip on hammer and tong

I remember them well, as they caressed me

But now they are gone, and everything is wrong

I cry and I stumble, fall down on my knees.

 

I touch with my hands the cold of the stone

And I call to my mind your eyes’ shine of steel

Why are you so distant that I cannot feel

Your touch and your gaze? Why am I alone?

Oh, come back to me, so my heart can heal!

I don’t know what life is since the day that you’ve gone.

 

But I know I will wait, it is just for the time being

I’ll find you again when my time is fulfilled

In undying lands our swords we shall wield

And once more again I will call you my King

My love and my lord, my strong Oakenshield

I’m your flower wild, you’re my everything!

 

 

* * *

 

 

2955, Wolfram to Ellen

 

Microbiology Lab, anytime between dinner and biking home.

           

            Dear Sister, how are you doing? I was surprised with your first letter, but after the girls explained to me about the Acromantulas in Mirkwood I should have known you would find a way to talk to Dumbledore and use that Gate. He didn’t tell me about that one before, but then he knows so many things that it is obvious he cannot tell everyone about everything, and the Forbidden Forest is not a place to go picknick anyway.

            We sold your apartment after we got a presumed death certificate for you. We put the money in an investment fund and call it the “Erebor Travelling Fund”, because we will use it to finance our trip to Indonesia and anything needed or wanted to visit you. Yes, we plan to go! If there is anything you want us to bring for you, please ask in your next letter, that will be the last one before we go. Of course it is not easy to carry huge amount of stuff when traveling by air and then hiking Kelimutu mountain up, but we will do our best. We kept all your personal belongings and most of your furniture, just name what you want.

            I wish I could have a movie of your Human Resources Director reaction when I told him you quit. His face went through all colors of the rainbow plus white, but settled for a weird shadow of purple. I let him vent out all possible curses he knew in three foreign languages, tough I had to correct him in the pronunciation of some of them. Then I let him vent out all derogative adjectives he had in mind before I told him you were “missing” and “presumably dead”, then he got definitely tomb stone gray. It was fun, thank you so much!

            I’m completely enthralled by the news of having a nephew and one more coming! I thought I would never have a boy to spoil as much as you spoiled my girls; I know it will be so a short time, but when we go visiting you, be sure I’ll spoil them to be worthy the years we’ve been apart!

            Lily is slowly coming back from her depression, though she never shows any interest in company of any kind. She is attending her architecture classes and when she is at home, while not studying, she just draws wonderful landscapes and mountains. Me and Iris are trying to drag her to a boffering training with your former clan, maybe she could at least pour out her frustration with sparring.

            Iris is doing fine, if I knew a trip to Middle-Earth would do her so good I’d dropped her there years ago.

            I got some mice from the neighbor lab, so the owl will have a nice lunch when it comes to exchange letters.

            Love,

            Wolfram

 

 

* * *

 

 

2955, Iris to Bilbo

 

Bilbo,

I’ll kill you.

Aunty sent a letter last year and you didn’t. I will forgive you this time because you didn’t know there would be a post service.

I finished highschool. I’m not going to college because there isn’t any college that I can finish in two years, so I’m attending all tech courses I can that will be useful when I’m in the Shire. Hope there is need for a wannabe healer or midwife? Yes, I know more about healing plants than Lily already, and next month I’ll start the practical stage of my assistant obstetrician tech course.

I hope you noticed how well I’m writing in tengwar, I have been training. Actually, I’m writing my notes from the courses I’m attending all in tengwar. It is funny when you find out that one can learn anything you want if you simply dedicate yourself enough to it.

I gave up getting my driver's license, as it will be of no use in the Shire.

I won a prize in the latest LARP camp I took part, Fili would be proud of me, none beat me at two weapon duels. It made me happy and sad at the same time, you can imagine.

I’ll write you again next year, if and only if I receive a nice letter from you this time.

Remember I love you.

Iris Glory, daughter of Wolfram

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because Mahal has to show certain dwarf his real drives


	3. Tales of Mahal's forge, I  - Love for a Grandfather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another blow on the metal, another shake in his body. He was a small and confused child. In front of his Maker, he could allow himself to give in to feelings that he had to keep locked inside himself all his life, or, his lives.

            The day after that first baffling meeting with the owner of the forge where he was stuck in, when they spend countless hours talking about his life, the dwarf was left to sleep in the place he had awoken that... morning? Inside that mountain he didn’t have the sense of night and day the same way he had back in Middle-Earth. Then he could tell which hour of the day it was with his eyes shut in the darkest and deepest dungeon of any mountain. Here he wasn’t sure about it, so he deemed he woke up in the morning and had gone to sleep at evening, and that would be enough for him, as there wasn’t really a reason to bother about it.

            After some days of long conversation he had been allowed to use the forge and a very small hammer, to his own measuring, and directions about what he could and what he should not do while there. As he still felt tired sometimes, most of the time that he was alone he spent just staring at the fire, thinking, but sometimes to think too much brought him sadness and longings that he could not quench.

            The dwarf was wearing down his anguish hammering an unharmful piece of metal to bend it to a certain shape he had been asked for when the fire got hotter and the Maker was there again. Since he was allowed to use the forge, even if only directed by its owner, it had been easier to bear the lone waiting hours between that one’s goings and comings. He was never hungry, and understood his thirst was not of any ordinary liquid, and that it was not any ordinary water that was being given to him since the day he arrived, and he could not sleep all the time he was alone. Working at the forge gave him a feeling of usefulness that he was lacking, and he was also used to think while working, so it was a good solution. He didn’t yet think about how many of his race could claim to have been taught forging by that one himself, however.

            “Fine job, child. I can feel the love you poured into this piece of workmanship.”

            It was a praise he would keep as a treasure beyond price as long as he could hold the memory of it. The following question took him by surprise.

            “What were you thinking about when you were doing it?”

            “I... I was just thinking about my last months in Middle-Earth.”

            “Yes?”

            It was clear the answer was not deemed enough.

            “The journey to retake Erebor.”

            “What about the journey?”

            He swallowed hard. The shine of that deep sea blue eyes haunted him, actually, the knowledge that he would never more see that shining eyes again until... Until she reached the Halls of Waiting, too. But would she? She had not been born dwarf. What would happen?

            “She was a special lass, wasn’t she?”

            He looked up, startled. He thought he didn’t say anything aloud – or did he?

            “You’re afraid you won’t see her again, even if you Compromised. Why?”

            The owner of the forge took two completely different and foreign pieces of wrought metal from the workbench and assembled them, not looking at the dwarf at all.

            “I have not been worthy of her love. I spent so many years hating that I have not learned how to love, and how to be loved. I don’t deserve her.”

            “Ask yourself if this is true, child. Did you really spend so many years only hating? Did you not learn how to love?”

            “I hated Smaug and all the destruction he brought to my people; I hated Thranduil, and in his name I hated every elf on Middle-Earth, for what I understood as betrayal, and lack of compassion; I hated the Defiler for all the sorrow our war has brought unto my people. I had no room for love.”

            “This is not what I have seen, child. When you got upraged at Azanulbizar, was it out of hate? Really?”

            “Yes, I hated Azog.”

            “But Azog just beheaded your grandfather and king. So, did you really act out of pure hate? I don’t think so.”

            The dwarf got silent for a while, measuring what his Maker said. He saw him going to the anvil with another piece of metal held by a tong, weighing the hammer in his hand and strike the metal on the anvil. The clash rung through his flesh.

            “What was your strongest feeling at that moment, child? What moved you right then? I doubt it was hate.”

            Another blow on the metal, another shake in his body. He was a small and confused child. In front of his Maker, he could allow himself to give in to feelings that he had to keep locked inside himself all his life, or, _his lives_.

            “I felt... I was... I just lost my grandfather! He was the measure of everything to me. Even if he got the gold-sickness while in Erebor, he was working hard for our people in the Blue Mountains, to grant our people a place, a land, to retake what had been taken from us, from _our people_. He was fighting even at his old age, putting his live at risk, and actually _losing his life_ in behalf of his people, _our_ people. He could have stayed quiet and comfortable in the Blue Mountains, we were striving there, but he wanted the best for us all, his family, his people...”

            The mighty one took the piece he was working on in his hands and looked at it critically.

            “Yes, I know what happened there. But, I asked, what _was_ your _strongest_ _feeling_ then? Can you tell me?”

            The voice of the dwarf came out in a whisper.

            “I hurt for my Granda.”

            The metal piece was placed once more in the fire of the forge.

            “I knew I would miss him so much; not the king, not the warrior, the leader of dwarf; I would miss my grandfather. It was my grandfather that was beheaded there and then. It was not my king, or the king of my people; it was my _Granda_ , _my_ Granda. And albeit I was a grown dwarf, a warrior, in that moment I was only a child who lost his Granda.”

            The one tending the forge made more air go into the fire to heat it and turned to the almost broken dwarf.

            “Then, child, tell me, what moved you right then? Was it hate? Really?”

            The place got silent for so long that the only sound was that of the creping fire in the forge heart, until it was filled by a the sighing of the weeping dwarf.

            “I’ve done what I’ve done because I loved my Granda, and dearly! I loved him and I could not stand the pain of having him dying in front of me, and I could do nothing to save him; I loved him and he died in front of my eyes, and I could do nothing! Nothing! I loved him and I could do nothing...”

            The last phrases were interspersed with hard sobs, sobs of one who had buried those feelings in the deepest of his mind, and to release it was painful. He felt a gentle hand on the back of his head, bringing him closer to a welcoming shoulder where he could cry on as hard as he may. Finding out his rage against Azog was not quite due to simple hate was a relief, but made him contact with wounds he deemed buried ages ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter:: Because Ellen must have some news from Earth; and because Iris can't miss the chance to threaten Bilbo.


	4. Letters from 21th years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was about to make that old joke about you and Kíli not having TV at home, but it is obvious nobody has TV in Middle-Earth. Four younglings? This not increase in birth rate, it is population explosion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As suggested by a reader, I'm adding a little summary for you dear readers not to get lost on the OCs. In each chapter, it will contain a list with the OCs and characters named by Master Tolkien but not overly written about, if at all; I'll list the character's name, affiliation, age in one's own original race and/or equivalent in human years, noted as D.A. (dwarven age), Ho.A. (hobbit age), E.A. (elf age, if needed; elves will mostly be referred only as children, younglings, adults and mature, if needed at all), N.A. (numenorean human age, for the Dúnedain) and H.A. (human age, the standard to what all other ages will be compared). I'll not use any unchallengeable mathematical formula to convert ages, so the characters will be depicted mostly by my own feeling of what they should be/act at their equivalent in human age. 
> 
> Age sumary:  
> Ellen: Sister of Wolfram, aunt of Lily and Iris, wife of Kíli; E.A. adult; H.A. 36  
> Wolfram: Brother of Ellen, father of Lily and Iris; ; H.A. 48  
> Thorin "Knee": Firstborn son of Kíli and Ellen; D.A. 19; H.A. 11  
> Frérin: Second son of Kíli; D.A. 14; H.A. 8  
> Lyn: Third child of Kíli, his first daughter; D.A. 8; H.A. 5  
> Fíli: Fourth child of Kíli; D.A. 3; H.A. baby  
> Firc: Daughter of Bofur; D.A. 9; H.A. 6  
> Zifur: Son of Bofur; D.A. 3; H.A. baby  
> Difur and Dibur: Sons of Bombur; D.A. 7; H.A. toddler  
> Rori: Son of Ori; D.A. 6; H.A. toddler

2962, Ellen to Wolfram

 

Erebor, early autumn of the twntieth-first year of the reign of Kíli Elvenblood, King Under the Mountain

            So, dear Brother, I must suppose you already knew Dumbledore before my cliff-falling adventure, and didn’t tell me _nothing_. Thank so much for your _astounding_ confidence in me! If I hear one more time that I was not nerd enough, I’ll lock you in a dungeon until you regret! But, at least my guess that Dumbly is a NerdNet guy too was right, hah!

            Be prepared to spoil a _lot_ of heirs to Durin’s line, as when you wrote me last time you didn’t know yet that our second one was Frerin (Mahal, is he already fourteen?) and then we got Lyn, and now we have another Fili too, he was born three years ago. Dis says her grizzled hair will turn green if she has to have more grandchildren to look after, but it surely helps her to stay lean and fit. It gets even better when Bofur’s girl Firc (she is one year older than our Lyn) and her cousins, Bombur’s twins Difur and Dibur (these are one year younger than Lyn) plus Rori, son of Ori, that is just six, come to play along. At least when Rori comes Dori uses to lend a hand too, in his old mother hen style. It uses to be when Knee and Frerin escape to Dwalin with the escuse of sparring, and I take Fíli to play with Zifur, Bofur’s second one, as they are the same age and ain’t grown up enough to drive Zirc crazy.

            I’m glad to know I’m ‘presumably dead’ to Earth now, as I think my real life begun when I found myself in Middle-Earth, and my former life was just to get prepared for what was to come, and to value who I’d come to know. Thank you so much, beloved Brother, for being there for me all those years!

            And the girls, how are they faring? I’m looking forward to see you all, there is so much to talk about, I sure am happy here, but I miss you and the girls. Well, I guess it is only seven years to go, now! I’m sending a list of suggestions attached, you see what you are able to bring and/or use your imagination. If you only bring yourself and the girls it will be enough. By the way, Radagast came to visit us last summer and asked to send you word to not forget your staff when you come.

            Love for ever,

            Ellen Dwarvenheart, Fundinul

 

* * *

2962, Wolfram to Ellen

 

Parasitology Lab, after finishing a round of DNA sequencing.

 

            Dear Sister, I have already complained to Dumbledore but I must warn you to not send an owl that cannot differentiate between a mouse and a hamster. Next time I’ll lock the girls’ hamster away from where the owl may fly, if they ever are willing to have a hamster pet again.

            I was about to make that old joke about you and Kíli not having TV at home, but it is obvious nobody has TV in Middle-Earth. _Four_ younglings? This not increase in birth rate, it is population explosion!

            Iris plans firmly to stay in Middle-Earth, with Bilbo. For what she has grown in responsibility and focus on targets, I really must concede her wish, even if it will be hard on me to lose one more girl of my family. Seemingly, Bilbo has serious intentions to her. I ask you to provide anything needed for a formal wedding at Erebor, as there will be no time for me and Lily go to Hobbiton to attend a wedding there and be back to Erebor in time to go back home before the Gate closes again, and I have not found other Gate nearer the Shire and I won’t dare using the map. There are things that worry me about Iris marrying Bilbo, which I cannot mention here due to the agreement of non-revealing future issues, but she says if you three changed what was to happen before, she can change things that are yet to happen. I hope she is right.

            Lily is getting better, already working on her monograph, I don’t know where from she got the idea but she is writing about ancient mines architecture. She is looking forward to our visit, I have seen her oiling her sword and polishing it’s scabbard. By the way, I forgot to mention, Iris’s twin swords did not turn back to boffers when we came back. I don’t know what it might mean, though. I hope we will not have to stand another war when we are visiting you, dear sister.

            I ask you please to provide dry towels and somewhere for us to change right after we come out of Mirror Lake, I don’t want to climb your endless stairs in wet clothes again.

            Love,

            Wolfram

 

* * *

 

 

2961, Bilbo to Iris

 

Hobbiton, 2nd  Winterfilth, 1361 Shire Reckoning

 

            My dearest Iris,

            It is the memory of your love for me that feeds my hope of one day being really alive, as I haven’t been since you departed. Yes, I’m a helpless romantic, and you can punch me for it along hours if you want.

            I hope your decision in not going to College because of lack of time to finish it before your coming, with the agreement of your father, exempts me from your aunt’s wrath, as I expect to keep my heart right where it is, no soup spoon close to it at all. For what you wrote me seven years ago I’m sure you are quite a skilled healer for hobbit standards. Your skills will be more than welcome in Hobbiton, but you would be welcome just for being who you are; anyway, I believe being a healer will allow you to get acquainted to more people and make your days less boring than they would be just being at my side at Bag-End.

            Well, I’m saying all this because I believe it means your father has agreed to you coming to be with me. If he has not, please warn him that I will steal you for me, as a good burglar should. Now I have hope rekindled that my life will not end dully, my only fun to fill the youngsters’ heads with adventurous stories just to get their parents annoyed. It looks like not being completely respectable by mature hobbits only makes me more interesting for the younger ones. I have a lot of young friends amongst my younger cousins, both from the Took and the Brandybuck side, plus some not related at all.

            I have almost regular news from the Company, as their halls in Ered Luin were not abandoned, although most of the dwarves decided to move to Erebor. Their trading route crosses the Shire, but most people do not even take notice of it, for the dwarves use to cross our towns at night. Of course some of them stop here and so I’m always provided with news, and it is so that I won’t have to go to Erebor to deliver this letter. It may comfort you too that you will have regular news form your Aunt Ellen, Little Brother Kíli and that pack of youngsters of them. For what I have heard about your little cousins, you and your sister have never been any kind of brats at all!

            I plan to start my long expected journey to Erebor with a fair precedence, so I can stay for a while in Rivendell before crossing the Misty Mountains. I want to spend some time with that big bear of a friend Beorn, too, exchanging honey cake recipes, and drink a Dorvinion wine with Legolas and Tauriel with no hurry at all. Of course we both will do all this together on our way back. I really hope Gandalf will be available by this time, he is a very nice company, and uses to visit me once upon a while.

            Actually, he is right here, as he came for my humble birthday party yesterday. Yep, I turned seventy-one, dear Iris, and I hope you don’t think I’m getting too old for you, because my feeling for you is the same of when we first met, but I must admit that by now I would have stolen you and lied your age rather than agree in waiting twenty-eight years for your possible coming back.

            Yearning for you,

            Always,

            Bilbo Baggins

 

* * *

 

2962, Iris to Bilbo

 

Bilbo,

I’ll kill you! Your last letter almost made me cry! It was not fair!

Just let me get there and I’ll help you to make this Lobelia regret the day she put her filthy hands on your silverware. You may be soft and just disappear when she is in sight, but I have no family tie to her to keep me from pestering her. If your Took buddies are the kind you told me before, I’m sure I’ll get them to help me into it, too.

Actually, I think they may be good company for you when you travel to Erebor to meet me. I’m not well acquainted to hobbit uses yet, but I think it would be natural to have kin along for the ceremony. What kind of priest do hobbits have? Devoted to Erú or to a Valar? Or will we have a dwarven ceremony? But then, we have not had that Compromise Speech, nor braids! Can we do it by proxy? Lily would know the words and the way of braiding my hair, but who would do it for you? Aaarrrggghhh, there would be no time, because even if this were to happen, the Compromise Speech must be held one year and a day at least before the wedding, and we would not have how to communicate if we agreed with this or not, or even to know if a dwarven priest would agree to attend our wedding! No, forget dwarves, you chose what kind of ceremony is fit, all I know is that I will be with you at last. Just one more year, Bilbo, and I’ll be there!

Lily sends a sisterly kiss on you cheek and says she is getting better, but I can tell you she is still on ‘out of business’ mode. If she goes on this way, it will take her another fall into Middle-Earth and a handsome mischievous dwarf to heal her, like it was with Aunty Ellen.

 

Remember I love you.

Iris Glory, daughter of Wolfram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because certain dwarf must be reminded of things that matter; and because sometimes Lily just gets so sad.


	5. Tales of  Mahal's forge, II - The love of a Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had the best masters to teach me to be loved.”

 

            The sobs had quieted, the shaking body had stilled, but he wasn’t over yet with the dark haired dwarf, and albeit caring and loving, he would not let him rest until some things were settled. He knew this one was one tough to deal with, and he deemed it better to finish that at once. After things were cleared out, it could take any time to fix things further, but things had to be made clear as soon as possible, before that child could turn into his usual stubbornness. He wiped the face of the already stabilized dwarf with a thumb and stood up to take a pair of mugs in a nearby workbench. For the first time, he poured wine in both mugs.

            “Here, child, this will do you good.”

            The dwarf took the mug with a wary look, because he never tasted the wine of the strange flagon; but, if it was being freely offered to him, he deemed it would do him no harm.

            “Now that we have it clear that you indeed knew how to love, tell me a bit more about not learning how to be loved.”

            A small sip of the wine revealed a taste that reminded him of forest, of rain-wet earth, of the warmth of a welcoming house at the end of a day at the forge. Nothing like Dori would ever explain the exquisite bouquet of a wine. Another sip and there was the smell of burning wood in a stove, mixed will a rich meat and celeriac broth, making his mouth water with expectation. He opened his eyes and looked at his Maker, becoming suspicious of the wine.

            “It will not hurt you. Drink, child.”

            He took in a somewhat bolder draught, and the rich wine spilled around his mouth, with a taste that brought to him a mild scent of lavender and the feeling of soft and silky strands of hair in his hands. The lavender scent was from that silky hair he caressed, deftly plaiting it to get it out of the face of a small youngling snug in his lap, but very delicately so not to pull the thin hair and hurt the child. He let the wine wash down his throat, and there was not a single drop of bitterness in his mouth anymore. Another draught brought him the touch of a wooden bowl in his left hand, and a small silver spoon in his right, carefully feeding the dwarfling in his lap of the meaty broth that smelt so good and homely. He was so tired from the day at the forge that his hand dropped to his side after the youngling had eaten some spoonfuls of broth, but the hand holding the bowl was steady, not letting it fall as well as keeping the child from falling backwards.

            The owner of the forge poured more wine into the mug, quietly. The dwarf lifted his eyes to him, resolute, and drank most of the wine down. It tasted of warm broth given into his mouth by a small and caring hand, still not fully able to handle the spoon properly, but grabbing it anyway and feeding the grown up dwarf as if it was his duty, not the reverse; he felt the broth spilling on his beard and he didn’t care, because it tasted of the best wine he could ever imagine. He took in the rest of the wine in the mug and he felt his thirst quenched for the first time in a long while, at the same time filling his stomach with a warm broth that smelt of wood fire and meat and celeriac, and a warmth over his shoulders as a blanket was placed there by the same steady hands that took the bowl from his hand and whipped away the spilled broth from his beard. The last drops of wine tasted of small hands that kept grabbing his tunic while someone tried to carry the youngling away, hushing him quiet, to no avail. “ _I wan’ Unca! Le’ me be with Unca, Ma, p’ease?_ ”

            His eyes kept on the bottom of the empty mug, unblinking. More wine was poured into it, but he just kept looking at it, not at all willing to drink more right now, just tasting the warmth of the last draughts. At last the words found his way out, quietly.

            “I... I had the best masters to teach me to be loved. I have been loved, more than I ever deserved...”

            “Don’t use those words! Never say you didn’t deserve what was freely given to you, moreover if what was given to you was the most noble of all feelings! ” The wine-pourer cut his phrase. “Now, repeat what you said first, and hear your own words.”

            He gulped, took in a deep breath, and repeated, very slowly.

            “ _I had the best masters to teach me to be loved.”_

            “And did you learn? Do you know how it is to be loved?”

            Ashamed of his first outburst of self-pity, he nodded, agreeing.

            “Yes. I know what it is to be loved.”

            Silence. The one who questioned him poured himself more wine and drunk it smilingly.

            “If you ever feel inclined to it, just take more wine.”

            “Thank you.” But his eyes kept to his hands, and to the mug in them. He had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because Bilbo must travel a long way to reach Erebor


	6. Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sar, what do you think me and Beryl are supposed to do with all this ale?”  
>  “To drink it.”

            After all the trouble he had when returning from his first journey to Erebor, Bilbo was well aware of what he should do this time so as not to have his beautiful hole and all his stuff being auctioned in some months of absence. So, he qualified his good neighbour Hamfast Gamgee as his proxy for all purposes, as the Gaffer (as Hamfast was known) had so a dislike for the Sackville-Baggins side of the family it  assured Bilbo would not be surprised with his house being sold to them due to any of Lobelias’ tricks on him.

            With this settled, he provided the next important thing apart from having a home to bring someone long expected to; as for Shire uses, if he was to marry, he should have witnesses, and witnesses he sought amongst the ones dearest to him, and reliable too. To be close to Lobelia made him dismiss his close cousins Odo Proudfoot and Falco Chubb-Baggins, as they were the first ones to name him Mad Baggins when he came back; his second cousins Drogo and his brother Dudo jumped up at once when called, but Posco was less prone to adventure, being a rightful Baggins from head to toe; from the Took side of the family there were Paladin and one of his older sisters, Pearl Beryl, and their cousin Ferumbras. This gave him five rightful witnesses, but he needed one more to have Shire laws complied.

            Primula Brandybuck was the one to save him, and to Beryl too, as it would be improper for her to travel alone with a male group, even if one of them was her own brother; but then, Primula would not travel with none of her own family to stand for her, and so her nephews Saradoc and Merimac went too. They were the sons of Rorimac, the oldest of the eight siblings of whom Primula was the youngest.

            And Ferdinand Took offered himself, as being born the same year as Saradoc made them very close friends, beside cousins. Ferdinand was son of Sigismond, a nephew of Bilbo’s mother Belladona. The three Brandybuck boys and Ferdinand Took were not of age yet, and to their parents’ despair off they were, all very fond of cousin Bilbo.

            And so it was that in a bright day in March four Tooks eagerly left the Great Smials to meet three Bagginses of Hobbiton at the Three Farthing Stone, by the East Road they would tread for some days until reaching Brandyhall in Buckland. There Old Rory, as Primula’s older brother was known, lectured them all, plus his sons and his youngest sister, of what was and what wasn’t proper for them when on the road and more than this, when visiting Bilbo’s friends. Rory was one who would have had his share of adventure if he could, being son of Mirabella Took, younger sister of Belladonna, Bilbo’s mother, but as headhobbit of the family he really had to pretend he was serious, at least in front of people.

            Next day a slightly hangovered party left Brandyhall at a good pace, fresh ponies granting them speed and means to carry all the food they (and their mothers, by the way) thought would be necessary until their next replenishing stop, that would be in Bree. To Bilbo, who had gone through hell and high water with the dwarves, it looked like enough for the whole journey, but he just shook his head, amused, as he remembered the day he left his hole almost thirty years before with not even a handkerchief in his pocket. If anyone, even Gandalf, told him beforehand what his journey would be like, he would not really believe it, so he let it be for his cousins.

            It was only when they were some hours of travel to Bree that the first noticeably incident happened. Paladin was pestering his sister that she should behave properly (to what she asked him _when_ had it been that she didn’t) and young Saradoc and Merimac begun to worry that their aunt Primula, actually twenty years their senior, should be protected in that strange land of Bree, where Big People walked along with hobbits and where the Greenway crossed the East Road they themselves where travelling. Drogo and Dudo had made that far more than once, some of these times along with Bilbo, to take a proper ale in one of the famous Bree inns, and Ferumbras had mentioned that he also was well acquainted to Bree, so it was not really a foreign land. Even so Bilbo, being the one in charge of them, worried about his female cousins, and came up with an idea.

            “The Prancing Pony has guestrooms for Little People, we can stay there, but I would rather not have you girls alone in a room, the inn is respectable but I’d feel more peaceful if one of us stayed there with you.”

            “Surely I stay with my sister, Bilbo, and I think Primula wouldn’t mind having me as her guardian.”

            Ferumbras shook his head and made his point.

            “You have barely grown hair in you armpit, Paladin, how do you think you can be the ladies’ guardian?”

            Most of the party laughed at the statement that made the young hobbit’s face turn crimson. He was just three years past his coming of age, and younger than both his sister and cousin. Bilbo looked at the situation and solved it easily.

            “So, Ferum the Brave, you will be the one in charge, then. Just don’t forget you’ll not be allowed to leave them alone while we drink our lot of ale!”

            “Hey, this is not fair!”

            Beryl would have elbowed her cousin’s ribs if they were not on ponies.

            “If you are a very nice guardian and don’t tell anything to our parents, me and Prim will grant you the time to drink as much ale as there is room for it in your belly.”

            “How?”

            Asked a very interested Ferumbras; it was Primula to answer, with a sheepish smile.

            “We can make you company in the common room of the inn while you drink your lot, if you don’t mention we are drinking our lot too.”   

            “Lads, you are talking as if you were a bunch of _tweens_ doing some mischief hidden from your parents!”

            “Come on, Drogo, you are one to behave like that even nowadays.” Dudo chuckled at his older brother, who grinned in return.

            “Only when I have to cover up the troubles you get stuck in, mop-head.”

            “…Said the kettle to the pot…”

            Bilbo was glad to have them as chosen companions to be with him in this journey, and smiled to himself. The youngest of them, Merimac, was not even born when he stormed out of Bag End almost twenty-eight years before, and most of them where from toddlers to small lads when he came back. Drogo, the oldest of them beside himself, had just come of age a week before the gray wizard marked his freshly painted door so the dwarves would know where to throw plates, ravage a pantry and mostly annoy a hobbit. He missed them dearly.

            Of course he had some contact with them, since the dwarves traced a commercial route between Erebor and the Blue Mountains, but there was carting only quite few times per year, and not always someone willing to stop at the Shire was in charge of it, then he missed his opportunities of sending a letter to his friends. Seldom, though, one of the Company came along, and stayed by him for a time, and they had time to exchange news, gossip about their friends and chat about their first adventure for days.

            Sometimes, though, he took his time to wander in the woods in the seasons when the dwarven caravans where expected, and surprised them coming out of the blue and asking them to take a letter or two (or half a dozen, most often) to Erebor. That was when an ashamed caravan leader would remember he had been asked to deliver certain amount of letters at least at the Shire main post office, if not personally delivering them in Bag End. Bilbo’s good heart usually let it be and never mentioned it in any of his letters to the high council of Erebor, since he was sure some kind of punishment would be due to an unwilling caravan leader that skipped his post duties; but then, the halfling knew how much the pressure of longing one’s home after months of travelling in the wild could make one take the wrong decisions.

            Considering the commercial route and what news he had in recent years, Bilbo believed his journey would be quite smoother than the first one, else he would not dream of bringing his closest friends along, who happened to be his cousins also. But he really would like to have the company of Gandalf on the road, even if expecting things to be smoother this time; the old gray wizard had become a very close friend of his, one he could talk about anything without being judged by it as he would by regular shire-folk, and even his cousins were kind of confused by what he said sometimes.

            So it was that they reached Bree at a bright spring afternoon, left their ponies in the stable of The Prancing Pony inn and managed to get hobbit-sized rooms for all of them. A good bath later, they all were ready to enjoy the common room and taste Bree’s famous ale along with a likewise hobbit-sized dinner, which meant, double the one of the Big Folk’s.

            They were quite contented with their pork chops with potato chips and mugs of ale. Saradoc had found out they served it in pints and ordered it for all of them, to his aunt’s dismay.

            “Sar, what do you think me and Beryl are supposed to do with all this ale?”

            “To drink it.”

            He blinked at Primula, stunned for her not seeing the obvious, and gulfed half a mug down. Ferdinand, being ass and pants with him, had to mimic him and half of his pint was done too. Bilbo shook his head, smilingly.

            “It doesn’t matter if your parents are not here to scold you, a good hangover will be enough punishment if you go beyond your limits.”

            “Cousin, considering all ale we have drunk at Bag End in the last years, it doesn’t seem dangerous to get a hangover only because we are not in the Shire. You trained us well.”

            The mature hobbit had to agree, and anyway he was in no mood to be angry at whoever it could be. He was travelling to fulfil an old dream, and he was glad to have his kin coming along, drunk or not. But someone else had other ideas.

            Even having claimed to drink their lot too, Beryl and Primula left the common room only a couple of mugs after dinner, and poor Ferumbras had to leave too because of his promise to be their ‘guardian’; he managed to have a pint of ale taken to their rooms, anyway, and the promise of a red wine bottle for the journey.

            Soon after they left Bilbo ordered one more round of ale, despite his own lecture, and noticed a man in a corner, hood down almost to his eyes, long legs stretched and a lit pipe in his hand. It was the scent of the tobacco that made him look twice, as he knew Old Toby’s scent from afar, and didn’t expect it to be smoked by one of the Big People save Gandalf. He made a tentative gesture towards his table and the man nodded, standing up and approaching them.

            Bilbo didn’t know exactly why he had invited the stranger to their table, as having him staring at them should be more a warning than a reason, but now it was too late. That one was tall even for the Big People, even if shorter than Gandalf, but the hobbit guessed the old wizard was not exactly human. He removed the hood, letting his dark shoulder long hair show, and bowed his head courteously.

            “Your friends should be wary of their hangover if you are to make a good pace on the road tomorrow, I dare say.”

            The hobbit bowed his head slightly in response and looked the man suspiciously.

            “What makes you think we are to be on the road tomorrow, lad?”

            The man rolled his eyes.

            “If you intended to make your journey a secret, you should have warned your friends to keep it down.”

            Actually, they had no real worry about secrecy, but when the man spoke Bilbo immediately perceived they could have put themselves in danger. He forgot Bree was not the Shire, even if the inn was as welcoming as he remembered from other ale nights. He would not be back to the Shire next day or the other, he was to take a long road to the other side of the Misty Mountains, and along with two female cousins. Even so, he was not to be put down by the longshanked stranger.

            “And what does our hangover matter to you, pray?”

            “Actually, nothing, but I’ll have no complaints about headaches and unsettled stomachs on the road.”

            Now Bilbo was flustered.

            “And who, in name of goodness, said you would be with us on the road tomorrow?”

            The man opened his mouth as if to say something but just let his breath out, shaking his head, apologizing.

            “I’m sorry, Mister Baggins, I worried about your company’s well being and forgot my good manners.”

            “And who told you my name, or why do you guess this is my name?”

            “I remember you, though you may not remember me. I was sent by Gandalf to escort you and your company at least until Rivendell. My name is Estel. I was the boy the dwarf-lady gave _chocolate_ at the house of Elrond when the company of Thorin Oakenshield lingered there.”

            Bilbo looked at the man, wide eyed, remembering the only child he ever saw in Imladris. The things the man said were not a guess someone could make to trap him, only someone who had been there, or who at least had real information about that journey, could have known. But the resemblance was unmistakable, now that he knew what to look for. The hobbit stood up from his seat, face-palming himself and making a welcoming gesture for the young man to sit by them.

            “Estel... Elrond’s step son! Lad, you have grown!”

            The tall man smiled, glad for the warm acceptance.

            “Well, I thing that’s what I was supposed to do these last decades...”

            “By the way, lad, how old are you now? I must admit I have no clue.”

            “I just turned thirty-eight some weeks ago. But don’t misjudge me, I’m considered already come of age for several years, for my race.”

            The hobbit smiled at the young man. It was obvious his young age, even if beckoned as adult, still meant a lot of good-willingness and optimism. But then a bell rang.

            “Why did Gandalf ask you to escort us? It’s been a long time since I was there, but I know the landmarks we have to look for.”

            Estel’s face got sombre for a second.

            “The road may not be as dangerous as it was when you went there first time, but it is not completely safe, and considering there are no real fighters amongst your party...”

            Bilbo looked at his kin, agreeing with the man. Drogo, Dudo and Paladin were singing a tavern song, not completely tuneful, while Ferdinand, Saradoc and Merimac were making a drinking contest. Paladin was able to use a bow, but didn’t bring his one; he himself brought Sting, thanking goodness elvish blades didn’t rust, as he didn’t have use for it in the last twenty-eight years. There was no ounce of warrior amongst them.

            “You are right. And there are two women travelling with us, also. We should have been more wary.”

            “That you should, Mister Baggins, but past cannot be undone. Let us take care from now on.”

            “Bilbo.”

            “What?”

            “Just call me Bilbo.”

            “Ah, well.” Estel accepted a mug of ale the waiter handled him. “It may be safer for the women not to go into this journey.”

            The hobbit waved his hands, knowing into what swamp he was treading.

            “No way to leave Primula and Beryl behind! You don’t know them, once they settle their minds on something, they are more stubborn than a dwarf!”

            “I was not thinking to leave them behind. It would be unfair, to say the least. But it would be better if they travel in disguise, so not to draw attention on them.”

            “This can be provided.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because orc raids are nasty


	7. Planning Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But Uncle, how are we supposed to learn to rule a kingdom if we cannot attend the meetings?”  
>  Dwalin tried to shove them back out of the room, but when he succeeded with one of them the other slipped in.  
>  “First you grow a beard, then you attend meetings.”  
>  “But, Uncle!”

           A flicker in a mirror on the stone wall caught Dís’ eye and she put her embroidery down in a wicker basket, then headed for the family chambers, quick and sure-footed albeit her two-hundred-nine years, that showed only in some silver strands of her hair and some wrinkles around her eyes when she laughed. Thankfully, in the last twenty and some years she had had a lot of reasons to laugh, and she didn’t mind the wrinkles at all. Her daughter-in-law was making her youngest one to sleep, so she didn’t want to call out loud for her. She opened the not quite closed door carefully and whispered.

            “Ellen?”

            The tall elf turned and smiled at the dwarf lady, still holding a brunette dwarfling in her arms with the aid of a cotton sling devised to carry the child with less strain to her arms, spreading the weight along her back and shoulders. She whispered back.

            “Yes, Ma?”

            Dís always smiled when Ellen called her that way, as if she was her own mother rather than the mother of her husband. Then she signalled in Inglishmêk so not to disturb the child.

            “ _They’re coming back, will you come along to the meeting?_ ”        

            Ellen’s hands were occupied, so she whispered back.

            “Sure. Can you please fetch me Leri to watch Kim while we are out? Kim just closed her eyes, I’ll wait a bit before I lay her down, else she will wake up again.”

            “ _I will. I’ll call Balin in my way to the Council chamber, send Leri and ask Zirc if she can keep Lyn and Fíli a little more than we planned._ ”

            “Thank you, Ma. I’ll ask the kitchen to send a snack over there, they will be hungry.”

            “ _Kíli is always hungry_.” Dís stated matter-of-factly and left the room.

            Ellen smiled at her mother-in-law’s statement while pacing slowly across the room to make her fifth child get deeply asleep before putting her down to the cradle. She had helped to raise her nieces, the younger one since birth, but dwarven children development was different from what she was used to, being born human in another world. Like if they took longer to grow up so their bodies could properly build their heavy bones, strong muscles to carry them, and develop the fine motor coordination that allowed the dwarves to be known as the finer handicrafters in Middle-Earth. She had no experience at all with elven children, and sometimes questioned herself how her kids would develop, being half-blood. Even with her first-born it was hard to tell how he would mature, as being just twenty-six he was not expected to have grown a beard yet, but his uneven voice betrayed that he should soon show signs of it. All her kids had slightly pointed ears, not quite elvish style, but not completely dwarfish either. Even Lord Elrond was unable to say how they would develop, when they spent some months in Imladris, years before, when Lyn was not born yet.

            She decided the toddler was well on her sleep and put her down in the cradle, covering her with a fluffy blanket but keeping her hands free. Kim always got upset when her hands were stuck under the blanket, so the best way to keep her sleeping was not to dare to cover her hands. Little bit of self-opinion, that one. A quiet scratch on the door announced the baby-sitter was there, and the elf left the little one to her sleep.

            “Hi, Leri!”

            Ellen greeted the young dwarf with a smile.

            “Milady!”

            Leri bowed as expected, but Ellen never got the patience for that formality with the ones closest to her, and the baby-sitter was definitely her right hand there. Actually, _two_ right hands sometimes, as he knew how to deal with the grown up children as well as with babies. They headed to the main living room while Ellen gave him some instructions, and then she left the house with a smiling nod and hand wave to the guards at the door. She never got quite used to have her house ostensibly watched that way, but it was the use in that culture and she didn’t have much a say in this case. It was the safety of the king and his family, the heirs of Durin, that mattered.

            She got to the main kitchen and asked for sandwiches, seed cakes and cookies to be sent, things that could even spread crumbs but would not get sticky in the hands of them and on the table and paperwork, plus tea and water. They would curse her for not sending ale, but they would need to have their minds clear for the meeting. Afterwards, there would be plenty of time to drink their share and a bit more, with a more meaty dinner that she already asked the kitchen to prepare.

            Almost everyone of the Company was in the Council chamber, plus Dís and Gimli, son of Glóin. He was the only descendent of a member of the Company to have come of age yet, and they had agreed to Glóin have him training in politic issues, so he was allowed to attend that kind of meeting, even if without a say in them. Dís was more than Kíli’s mother, she was a counsellor used to kingship matters, not having being formally trained to it like her deceased brothers, but self-schooled by sheer power of observation and eavesdropping. She had been a worthy asset to her brother Thorin when he ruled in the Blue Mountains , and had been left in charge when he went to the quest that took his life. Ellen greeted everyone informally, as there was none outside their close circle of family and long time friends, and took her seat beside Kíli, talking to him quietly.

            “You look tired, love.”

            He took her hand in his in answer, sending her a wry smile.

            “You would be tired too if you had Bard and the Master complaining in your ears for as long as I had today.”

            She shook her head.

            “If things are to be like they have been in later years, we will have a lot of it along the season.”

            The dwarf agreed with a nod, but then they were disturbed by Dwalin arriving with two loud companions at his heels. The taller of them, barely reaching Dwalin’s chest height, complained.

            “But Uncle, how are we supposed to learn to rule a kingdom if we cannot attend the meetings?”

            Dwalin tried to shove them back out of the room, but when he succeeded with one of them the other slipped in.

            “ _First_ you grow a beard, _then_ you attend meetings.”

            “But, Uncle!”

            Now the youngest one complained too.

            “It will take _ages_ for us to grow beards! It is not fair!”

            “Then, it will take _ages_ for you to attend meetings. Now let us adults work, in Durin’s name!”

            The two were not quite convinced that they failed in their attempt, but Ellen rose from her seat and looked sternly at them.

            “Knee, Frérin, stop pestering your Uncle and go home now and take a bath after the training. Leri is there, but you two don’t be noisy, your sister is sleeping.”

            “But Ma, Leri is the _baby-sitter_ , we are not _babies_ anymore!”

            “Then stop acting like if you were. You heard your Uncle, we have work to do here.”

            “But, Ma!”

            Kíli lifted just one eyebrow to them and they left the room, pouting. A moment after the boys left, grumpy and mumbling, said adults loosened the chuckles they all were holding for the determination of the youngsters in accompanying them. The young dwarf king spoke, bemused.

            “It’s becoming each day harder to keep serious while they pester you this way, Mister Dwalin.”

            The strong warrior shook his head.

            “They were sparring with me when I was called, and they pestered me from the training room to here. If I hadn’t trained enough with you and your brother, they would have got the best off me.”

            More laughter of the assembled Company. Glóin made his point.

            “How do you manage to steer them without a word, Kíli, when even Ellen has trouble to put them in their places, sometimes?”

            Kíli sent out a sheepish smile, stroking his short beard.

            “I learned with Thorin. If it worked with us, it is bound to work with them”

            So many years after the Battle of Five Armies, even if the pain of not having their beloved ones around was still there, they were already able to mention and even to kindly joke about them without tears fighting to release themselves. Actually, to joke about the deceased ones was a way to honour them, to say they were still there, in their hearts.

            As usual, Dís took the floor, regarding them all as kids, to which even Óin, Balin and Bifur knew better than to say anything. They all loved and respected her dearly, a matriarch in a patriarchal culture, bearing more bullocks than many an experienced warrior.

            “So, so, now that I have your rapt attention, and I deserve no less than this, let us move on to the subject of the tiresome meeting with the Men of Dale and Long-Lake, that as much as I know is getting worse than it has been last year. Kíli?”

            Her son stood up and went to a wide board out of a smooth greenish stone set on the wall where Ori had drawn with black ink a very detailed map of Erebor and surroundings, as far as the Misty Mountains to the West to Iron Hills to the East, and from the Gray Mountains in the North to the southern borders of Mirkwood in the South. He took a piece of chalk and started to sign some places as he spoke, with different marks for each year he mentioned.

            “We had timid orc raids two years ago here and here. It was unexpected and we just reacted, clearing out the rubbish. Last year we had orc raids here, here, and here too; this time they not only robbed food but also killed people from Dale. We sent scouting parties as soon as we had notice of what was happening, but the people who were killed will not come back. This year...” And Kíli draw a line from the north of Erebor to close to Dale, circling the mountain westwards. “... we must be prepared. Long-Lake will keep the bridge up and anyone going out of town will be escorted, but they work mainly with trading and fishing, and what they have of tilling and cattle is on the east margin, and until now all the raids have come from north and north-west. This leaves to us and Dale men to scout daily this line and be prepared for raids. Besides the scouting parties we will keep brigades in readiness for it. We will not abide more attacks, and we will not lose food that took hard work to be grown, nor lives that are priceless.”

            “How many will Bard provide for the scouting and brigades?” Dwalin asked, making his own calculations.

            “Most of his people are already working on the fields, they intend to finish harvest as quick as they may to lessen the risk. But we can count on six scouting parties and two brigades of fifty men each, full time in readiness. We must make for the rest.”

            “The harvest cannot be hurried at one’s wish, the crops have their own time to mature. There are many growths that mature later in the season, to harvest them early would mean a loss in quality and production, to say the least.”

            Dori had a good knowledge in crop matters, for a dwarf, as he knew a good measure of the processes involved in brewing wine and other fine stuff.

            “They intend to put more people on the fields and work less hours per day, so the maturing time would not be messed up, but the time exposed will be lessened. That’s why they will have not a great quota of men for the brigades.”

            Nori had been in the small company that had gone to Dale the day before. His wits were always welcome when dealing with... anyone, actually. Now it was Glóin, who had been there also, who intervened.

            “That is why we have to provide more scout parties and brigades. We can shift the war experienced ones from other duties to it, but this will mean less people in our own work schedules.”

            “Anything that can be done inside the mountain can be done at any season. The harvest must be favoured, else both men and dwarves will hunger in late winter.”

            Balin was quite pragmatic when it had to be. With the same sharp mind he advised the Durins for four generations, he changed swaddlings of the fifth, peeled potatoes, taught history and determined work shifts. It had not been idly that Thorin had chosen him for the quest to retake Erebor.

            Right then the kitchen attendant came in with a dinner-wagon with the snacks Ellen had ordered, to what all assembled Company unassembled itself promptly to eat in the best ‘back-at-Bilbo’s-hole’ style. The elf took a pear from her pocket and gave it small bites while making some notes on a paper, and soon Dwalin was at her side, a Bologna sandwich in one hand and another one half eaten in the other.

            “You are not eating, sister.”

            He shove the whole sandwich in front of her after pushing her papers away with his elbow. By the uplifted eyebrows and tired sigh it was obviously not the first time it happened.

            “I’m eating fruit, brother.”

            “This is not _proper_ food.”

            The half eaten pear was taken and thrown to the general direction of the table, hitting Ori’s head and being caught in the air by Bofur. Knowing her battle was lost if fought in usual terms, Ellen switched to what she knew would work.

            “Dwalin, dear, please give me back my _proper elf-food_ and I’ll give you a whole dish of pork cracklings later. Dealt?”

            He weighed the offer for approximately… half a second.

            “Dealt!”

            Then he went to the ungrateful task of retaking said fruit, which was promptly thrown by Bofur to his cousin on the other side of the table; Bifur threw it to Gimli, who threw it to his uncle Óin, and soon the whole bunch of dwarves was into the game of not letting the pear be taken by Dwalin, who already was on the table trying to catch it while not stamping on the food. Ellen shook her head and settled for a cookie, but it was taken from her hand by Dís and thrown into the battle.

            “Even you, Brutus?”

            Dís laughed out loud and gave her a cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomato, while taking Dwalin’s bologna sandwich for herself.

            “If you can not beat them, join them!”

            Both women laughed, eating their snacks watching the men fight as if it were a show made up only for their entertainment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because some of Bilbo's cousins can be very mischievous


	8. Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is not fair! Our bet wasn’t that serious for you to make me stay clothed like this!”  
>  Primula just giggled.  
>  “You were the one who said cross-dressing could not be as unbearable as me and Beryl stated. Now, take care not to rip my dress if you want to keep decently clad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear half-a-dozen readers, I'm speeding up posting, hope you enjoy it. I'd enjoy very much your comments, I make my best to always answer them.  
> Best regards,  
> Dagny

            So it was that some weeks later a party of ten hobbits and a ranger reached Rivendell without any incident, despite the continuous complaining from cross-dressed Beryl and Primula. Another complaint had come from the younger ones, who expected to see the stone trolls and their hoard, but Bilbo kept his word not to go there out of his free will. He knew whatever was to be useful or of any value had been taken or else been made a ‘long term deposit’ by the dwarves in their journey. Ferumbras, Paladin, Dudo and Drogo complained there were no more inns. Bilbo didn’t hear them, with his head already in Erebor and in who awaited for him there, and Estel made fun of every complaint he heard.

            “And how fares Elrond, lad? I’m really looking forward to see him again.”

            Bilbo asked Estel, after they crossed the Ford of Bruinen. They were heading along a different way Bilbo had taken first time, not being chased by orcs.

            “I haven’t seen him for a while, actually. Some years ago I moved to live with the Dúnedain, to learn their ways, and the ways of the Wilderness. They are my people, it is where I belong.”

            “Oh, I thought you were Elrond’s step-son.”

            “No, although he fostered me. My father died when I was very young, and my people sent my mother and me to live in Rivendell, for safeness, and for me to learn elven lore.”

            “This is sad.”

            They trod a bit more but a flea was pricking behind Bilbo’s ear.

            “Pardon me for my ignorance and a possible rudeness, but I thought the Rangers were a rough people, not having any liaison to the elves at all.”

            The young man laughed, throwing his head back.

            “We are as rough as needed to do what we have to do, as the wild is no place for gentle folk. But there is a quite distant liaison to the elves, or, at least, I myself have.”

            Bilbo looked up at him, curious.

            “Elrond’s brother, Elros, was one of my forefathers. Several generations apart, Elrond is kind of an uncle to me.”

            “This must be the most amazing story. I would not mind to hear it.”

            Estel took the bait and Bilbo spent most of the rest of the travelling time hearing the story of the rise and fall of Númenor.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            It was late in the afternoon when they reached Rivendell, and unlike twenty-eight years before no elf was surprised with their arrival. Actually, the hobbits were surprised with a hobbit-fit dinner, and Bilbo was glad to see many known faces. Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, plus Lindir and Figwit, who had been closer to the Company last time, all they were there. Bilbo noticed Elrond’s daughter was missing, and thought to himself that he would ask about her later; he was a bit worried about some of his cousins that were late for the party held in their honour, confusticate them for their lack of timing notion, and wished they would show as soon as possible.

            When they finally showed up Bilbo closed his eyes and wished they hadn’t shown at all; then he looked up at Elrond with an apologizing look and waved his hands in sign of defeat.

            “I have no idea of what is happening here and I have no part in it!”

            Elrond suppressed a chuckle.

            “I have heard of this kind of... behaviour... before, but never really witnessed it, Master Halfling. Is this... usual... back in your homeland?”

            Bilbo buried his face in his hands.

            “No. Not at all.”

            Beryl and Primula looked astounding in their dresses after weeks of ridding disguised as males, smelling lavender fresh from bath, their hairs fixed with flowers and ribbons in their locks, and Bilbo still had to find out how women managed to get their lips coloured that way when they wanted to. It was impossible, for a hobbit, not to notice that even their feet-hair had been tended to, wearing delicate locks with small white flowers entwined.

            His female cousins were perfect, and Bilbo noticed Drogo’s look of awe at them; he didn’t know yet what was happening, or about to happen, but something was going on and he didn’t miss it. Drogo was a decade older than he was when he met Iris, and had known those hobbit-lasses all their lives, but Bilbo was sure something was developing the last few weeks that didn’t develop before, even if he didn’t figure out who was Drogo’s target, yet. But this was not the issue.

            Along with the girls another missing cousin came along, wearing an obviously lent dress that didn’t fit him at all, tight at the waist and loose chest-high, despite some attempt of filling; his hair, shorter than the women’s, was fixed with a single lilac, its colour disturbingly matching his dress; his feet-hair was not flower-fixed as hers, but the delicate locks where there nonetheless. On behalf of Elrond’s deference, Bilbo stood up even if all he wanted was to crawl under the table to hide himself.

            “Ferumbras Took, son of Fortinbras, what, in the name of goodness, is this supposed to mean?”

            Said Took squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and opened his arms, helpless.

            “Did you ever lose a bet? To these two devils here?”

            Primula and Beryl guffawed, unable to hold their hilarity. Bilbo turned to them instead.

            “May you girls please explain to this confounded hobbit what on Middle-Earth is happening here?”

            Beryl was the first to recover from laughter attack and explained.

            “Just what it seems to be, dear cousin! Ferum lost a bet and is paying for it. He teased us so much about our wearing male clothes since Bree that now he is tasting a tea spoon of his own poison.”

            Elrond shook his head, amused.

            “Learn this, Mister Ferumbras: it is safer to enter a dragon’s den unarmed than to stir the vengeance of a woman.”

            “I’ve learned, Lord Elrond, the hard way, but I’ve learned...”

            Miserable Ferumbras took his seat between the two girls, Elrond blessed the meal and they spent the next couple of hours eating, drinking and exchanging news. Their safeness on the road was an issue Elrond was worried about, and Bilbo was getting anxious because of this. Albeit all his planning, some things could not be controlled, and he began to wonder if it had really been wise to bring his friends in this journey.

            “I have no choice but to go, I must make for Erebor to bring Iris back to the Shire, but now I think it may be better to make my cousins go back from here and to go alone. I cannot risk their lives on behalf of a selfish mind to have them along.”

            “But you should not go alone at all, Bilbo. Your friends may not be warriors, but they are loyal to you, it is plain to see, and sometimes the good will of a friend is more powerful than the mightiest army.”

            “No, I cannot lead them into the wild knowing it is not as safe as I thought.”

            Elrond put a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly.

            “You will not be alone.”

            The hobbit understood what was implicit in those words and smiled, thankful.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Next day found the hobbit company enthralled by the beauty of Rivendell, and

almost everyone good mooded after a decent night of sleep in comfortable beds, bellies full of delicious meals and heads light with wine and songs. The only grumbling hobbit was Ferumbras, for obvious reasons, like not being allowed to take of his lilac dress and to wear his male clothes as long as they stayed there.

            “This is not fair! Our bet wasn’t that serious for you to make me stay clothed like this!”

            Primula just giggled.

            “You were the one who said cross-dressing could not be as unbearable as me and Beryl stated. Now, take care not to rip my dress if you want to keep decently clad.”

            Ferumbras’s complaints were interrupted by Bilbo coming from a meeting with Elrond, making decisions on their next steps.

            “How was it?” Asked Drogo. “Yesterday I overheard we would have company on the road, is that right?”

            Bilbo sat with them on the lawn, close to where he and Iris had taken sparring lessons with Fíli, and unfolded a map to show them.

            “Yes. Estel will be coming, and some elves too. It is not an army, of course, but as good an escort as you could wish upon.”

            Paladin looked at the map, interested. He was one who enjoyed Bilbo’s travelling stories and had spent many an hour in his library trying to understand those maps and imagining what it would be like to travel as far as Bilbo had. He stated, pointing the places in the map in behalf of the ones who were not as curious about maps as himself.

            “Well, we are here and want to get there.”

            “Yes. Last time we crossed a pass and got trapped into the Goblin Town . Even if we are able to avoid the goblins, the Misty Mountains pass is dangerous, you know. I counselled with Lord Elrond and he mentioned that another possible route is to go north until the Coldfells and cross the mountains close to Rhimdath river; the dwarves of Ered Luin use this path when going to Erebor, they have commerce, you know. This will leave us close to the Wood-elves forest path, the same I took with the dwarves last time, or else we can keep north and round the forest, as the dwarven caravans use to do.”

            Bilbo scratched his head, thinking, and continued.

            “This would make us miss Beorn, but we could visit him on the way back. Anyway, it’s only four days on pony from the forest gate to Beorn’s, and we have plenty of time. I’d take Elrond’s advice and take this route, and then through Mirkwood, knowing Thranduil won’t imprison us, I mean. But it’s up to you: the north route is best fit for ponies, but it is longer; the forest path is shorter, but narrow and darker, even if Legolas and his crew cleansed it from most of the spiders.”

            They studied the map for a while and Drogo asked, curious.

            “If this map is true, here the mountains are not quite as high as this pass close to Rivendell. Why didn’t Thorin Oakenshield chose this path instead of the one you took?”

            “Because things change. It would leave us closer to the Wood-elves, who were his enemies by then, and he intended to take the Old Forest Road to cross Mirkwood, not the elven path. Besides, this path we are choosing leads close to the Ettenmoors, where at that time trolls used to dwell. Seemingly the dwarves cleansed things up in the years after Erebor’s retake, so they could use this path safely for their caravans. They take the Hoarwell river left margin, though, from the Last Bridge to the Coldfells. We will make for the Coldfells on the plains, not getting back to the Hoarwell neither getting too close to the Misty Mountains . I really do _not_ fancy a tour in Goblin Town again.”

            Primula looked scared at the mention of goblins.

            “Who will come with us?”

            “Estel offered to come, as well as Figwit and Culuin; Elrond’s sons would come anyway to represent Rivendell at the wedding; and you girls don’t have to worry about being around a whole bunch of men, as Aredhel and Nellas are to come too.”

            “Splendid! This means we can finally travel clad as women?”

            Bilbo retorted to them with a wicked smile.

            “As womanly as they will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because kids can be so curious. Do you like cookies?


	9. Dealing with spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know a spy when I see one. Or two, by the way. Who are you working for?”  
>  The boys stared at Nori, confused with his grim look and the accusation.  
>  “We don’t...”  
>  “How many meetings did you spy before you got caught?” Glóin demanded.  
>  “And what more are you spying? Since when?” Gimli took his father’s line of reasoning.

     The snack Ellen had carefully chosen so as not to make any mess in the Council chamber had been mostly eaten, but enough of it was scattered on any horizontal surface one could imagine (and some vertical surfaces also) when Dwalin finally got tired of it and jumped on the nearest dwarf, who happened to be Bombur, and tackled him to the ground. The elf asked to the dwarf lady beside her.

            “I thought it would be only throw-and-catch today, did you schedule wrestling also?”

            “Actually, no, they’re improvising.”

            “They are good at it, hmm?”

            “Always!”

            Ellen took out a new pencil and a clean paper from her brief bag and made some notes on it before handling it to Dís. The dwarf nodded, added some side notes and gave it back.

            “Yes, I think it will do, thank you, Ma. Do we stop them now?”

            “No, let them spend their stress a bit more, it has been a hard week on all of them.”

            “I wish there was popcorn in Middle-Earth.”

            “Wouldn’t they throw it too?”

            “No, too light-weighted to be thrown, but I used to eat it while watching entertainment.”

            “Oh, understood. We could try to develop the species out of ordinary corn, maybe?”

            “Hmm, this might work, for all I know this is how it was first developed in my old world; we can start next sowing season.”

            “Yes, this might work. Help me to finish this, Nathith?” (1)

            “Sure, Amad.” (2)

            They both stood up and the elf took a chalk on a side-table and began to write on a second wall-board, leaving the map one with Kíli’s markings. Dís added some last minute thoughts, and then a big black bird flew into the room, landing atop the side-board.

            “Greetings, ladies!”

            “Greetings, Rärc, son or Röac! What brings so noble a raven to our humble halls?”

            The raven loved to be cajoled and the women knew how to do it, even if he himself was as insolent as his father used to be. To have that winged ally was more than worth the price.

            “What brings me are strong wings, and what keeps me are...” The raven stopped short as he saw something on the dinner-wagon. “Are those cookies?”

            Indeed, some miracle had saved a tray of cookies from complete catastrophe and it was there, inviting Rärc to fall to the old sin of his family.

            “Help yourself, dear, I think our friends forgot it on purpose thinking of you.”

            The huge bird flew lightly and landed beside the cookies on the white table cloth, and began to eat them while talking to the women.

            “I was just passing by the borders of the northern woods when a cloud of dust caught my eye in the distance. I flew higher to get a better view, and I can tell you a large group of walkers are messing up further north-west, close to the borders of Mirkwood.”

            The women exchanged worried glances.

            “Elves would not march outside the forest.”

            “And dwarves would not march close to the forest.”

            “Are there any caravan of men expected?”

            “None that I know anything about. And men use to come from south or east.”

            “We will have to end our friends’ little recess and resume the meeting.”

            Saying this, Dís stood up, took two empty metal trays from the table and banged them together until the Company realized it was time for business. It would not be hard for them to go on playing wrestling for hours long if they were in the mood, mostly because it was not quite usual for all the original Company to assemble; they all had their duties in the realm’s frame, and all of them met with some regularity, usually in small groups focused in certain issues, but to have the whole bunch together was not so ordinary. Even in non work occasions it was rare to herd them all together, especially after some of them started family; there was always a sleeping dwarfling, a family meeting, something that kept them from reuniting all of them at the same time; so it was that when this happened it was always relished as a special occasion.

            “Children, our friend Rärc brought us some news from the north to what we have to decide our next steps. Rärc, please?”

            The raven ruffled his feathers and cleared his throat to speak, but didn’t leave the side of the cookie dish.

            “There are many walkers on the northern borders of Mirkwood, a large patch of dust is clouding it, and moving against the wind. Too far away to see which kind of walker, though.”

            Dori whipped a shred of lettuce from his beard and spoke.

            “If it is orcs marching to attack us, they should take close to a week to reach the perimeter of the woods.”

            “Last years they came later in the season, our preparations are none too soon.”

            Ori said after glancing at his notes, half buried in seed cake crumbles. Kíli asked the raven.

            “Rärc, are you or any of yours able to get a better look on the walkers?”

            The bird tilted his head, and if he had lips he would surely be smiling.

            “I’ll take it upon myself, and take my daughter Crîck with me. It’s time she starts her scouting training.”

            Kíli was looking at the raven when a movement on the border of the dinner-wagon got his eye.

            “What in Durin’s name...”

            His interjection was interrupted by the raven’s cry while he attempted to fly, but Rärc’s right talon had been grabbed by _something_ under the wagon that was trying to steal more cookies; the raven’s desperate attempt to escape unbalanced his captor, making him fall out from his hiding place under the table cloth, dragging to the ground everything that was on the table, from the cookie dish to the flagons and mugs, so that the only place that was quite unharmed by the dwarves’ earlier games was messed up too. Rärc freed himself and flew to a safer spot on the side-board he had landed first, while Dwalin and Kíli took the table cloth from over the squirming cookie-stealer. Rather, _stealers_.

            “Knee!”

            “And Frérin!”

            The boys hurriedly stood up and bowed in a formal greeting, as if it would lessen the consequences of their misdoings.

            “At your service!”

            Kíli shook his head, holding himself not to burst into laughter, as were his companions. Albeit it was the kind of thing he himself would do with his brother when they were at that age, he could not simply let them dance on his nose.

            “So, what do you both think you are doing at a meeting you were not supposed to attend to? Didn’t your uncle explain you will attend meetings when you have grown beards enough for it?”

            “But Adad!” (3)

            “We don’t need beards to do what you all were doing!”

            Frérin’s tone was more pleading than insolent. He knew better than to take his father to his edge.

            “Uh, don’t you say?”

            “Yes, Da, we don’t need beards to wrestle!”

            “If we did know meetings were this fun, we would have tried to attend them sooner yet!”

            Kíli exchanged a desperate look with Ellen, who bit her lip to avoid laughing. Their sons had got only the funny part of the meeting, having seen nothing of the real stuff, and reached their own conclusions. She tried to find a way to free the whole kingdom ministry of the embarrassment of being caught red handed being far from what usually is expected from adults.

            “Boys, don’t Mister Dori and Uncle Balin give you and the other students a break for a snack and some playing in the middle of your classes?”

            “Yes, Ma.”

            “Yes, Ma, especially after _very_ boring classes.”

            The information volunteered by Frérin made the silver haired dwarf turn to a light shade of purple.

            “So, we were having our own break, with a snack and some playing. That is all.”

            “All?”

            “All.”

            The boys’ suspicious faces made clear they were in doubt it the meeting would not be more of what they saw than of what they were told it would be.

            “But this doesn’t change the fact that you both disobeyed mine and Da’s orders. What shall we do now?”

            She turned to Kíli, who scratched his beard and shook his head.

            “They have to be punished, of course. A punishment measured according to the gravity of their disobedience.”

            Knee sighed, relieved; he was sure what they had done was just a harmless mischief, but then Balin intervened.

            ‘Yes, indeed; and to disobey the orders of a king is considered high treason, felony. It seems you are in trouble, laddies.”

            Frérin looked at his uncle wide eyed, in disbelief.

            “But we just...”

            “We didn’t...”

            “I know a spy when I see one. Or two, by the way. Who are you working for?”

            The boys stared at Nori, confused with his grim look and the accusation.

            “We don’t...”

            “How many meetings did you spy before you got caught?” Glóin demanded.

            “And what more are you spying? Since when?” Gimli took his father’s line of reasoning.

            The young brothers looked at each other, starting to panic; the adults were darting accusations at them, not giving any time for them to defend themselves. They were almost unable to figure out who was speaking what.

            “To the dungeons with them! I know how to make a spy speak!”

            “Put them in solitary, I bet they’ll speak in less than a week.”

            “I’ve heard of a plant whose decoction makes the person willing to speak!”

            “Shazara!” (4)

            Dís shout silenced them all. She came forward to her grandsons, looking angry and terrific at the same time, the raven perched on her shoulder like a pirate’s parrot. The bird gave his own contribution to the quarrel.

            “I can peck one of their eyes out if you wish, Milady.”

            She caressed the raven’s neck and declined.

            “I thank you for your offer, noble friend, but this will be dealt _dwarven style_.”

            Knee and Frérin were trembling, holding each other for reassurance, knowing how their grandmother could be when angered. A universe of terrible possibilities was passing in front of their eyes, everything from torture to banishment, from prison to starvation; and it was coming form their own family, their parents, uncles, even their Granma!

            “I have a punishment hard enough for them to understand the wrong they’ve done, and that will serve as proof of their guilt or innocence at the same time.”

            “Whatever you decide will be agreed by us, my Lady and Mother.”

            Kíli bowed his head slightly at Dís, who nodded at him and got closer to the two little bandits.

            “You wished so much to attend this meeting, didn’t you?” The silence in the Council chamber was almost touchable. “Then this is your punishment. Thorin son of Kíli, and Frérin son of Kíli, for your disobedience to what was ordered by your King, Kíli son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, this is your punishment.”

            The boys lowered their heads, sure they would be thrown down the balcony of the front gate of Erebor, or worse.

            “Your desire to attend this meeting will be granted. You both will stay here in this chamber of Council until we are over with the meeting. If any word of what will be said here is to be heard out of these chambers, we will know you both are spies, enemies of the kingdom, and you will be punished for it as due.”

            Considering they had not even the chance to speak up for themselves, it was a relief for them both; they let out the breath they were holding while praying to Mahal to grant them a painless death and bowed low before their grandmother.

            “I thank you for your merciful judgement, o Dís daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór.” Said Knee, trembling, aware of the proper words for an occasion like this; not that he ever dreamt he would be one to have to speak those words, but at twenty-six he knew at least some formalities, how to behave; not that he always behaved as he knew he should, but it was only expected from one his age, anyway, not even a beard grown yet. His brother, five years his junior, was a bit clumsier than Thorin, and only mumbled something like “Me too”.

            The King’s mother was seemingly over with them and dismissed her grandsons one to each corner of the main table, sided by the dwarves who were more able to pretend to be serious, so they could not poke each other and get distracted of the meeting they wanted so much to attend.

            “Back to the subject, me and Ellen made some suggestions for the next steps regarding the scouting and brigades matter; we pointed out what is due to each one here, no doubt in who is most inclined to what.”

            The dwarves agreed, made some points to be sure, and Kíli asked, looking serious.

            “Now, Mister Glóin, if you please, we would like to hear a full report on the mines maintenance schedule.”

            “A _full_ report?”

            “A _full_ report. _In detail_.”

            Glóin stood up and spoke for easily over forty minutes, then hooked Bombur to explain the nuisances the security measures they were taking to avoid the orc raids would cause in the supply area; Knee and Frérin tried to exchange looks when they lost track of what they could understand or not, but Rärc landed on the table so he would be right between them, preventing eye contact.

            Two or three more dwarves reported boring matters with no hurry at all, but when Bifur started his exposition in Old Khuzdul Frérin was no more able to silence a whimper. Knee closed his eyes and wished to disappear. They thought bureaucracy had won over them, but it was not over yet; Ori stood up.

            “The library and the archive really need a thoroughly dusting; the change in the weather that is coming soon will damage the parchments and papers if they are not cleansed as they should.”

            “I’m sure you will soon find volunteers to do the dusting under your guidance, Mister Ori.”

            Ellen eyed her sons with raised eyebrows that told them who the volunteers would be. Knee knocked his forehead on the table and Frérin slid down the chair until the top of his head was barely to be seen. Kíli rose to end the meeting.

            “Ladies and gentledwarves, I deem this meeting as having fulfilled its goals, with better outcome than expected, even if with information that worries us all. Better to worry and have a plan than to be oblivious and get caught by surprise. Erebor will show those orcs why they have to fear the people of Durin and their friends.”

            “I know all of us are tired and deserving a good nights rest, but we ask you all and family to make us company in our home this evening; it’s been a long time since we have had the opportunity to spend some merry time together.” The elf turned to Dwalin. “And I must pay my promise of a pork cracklings dish, brother!”

            The half bald dwarf tilted his head.

            “I have not given your fruit back, sister! I’m in debt.”

            “Considering what that pear must look like now, I prefer not to have it back at all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Nathith – Daughter  
> (2) Amad – Mother; for short, “Ma”  
> (3) Adad – Father; for short, “Da”  
> (4) Shazara - Silence (movie-verse)
> 
> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because Bilbo's escort has very interesting she-elves...


	10. Rudhaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are the mountains close to Lindon so depressed?”
> 
> “They are not depressed, they’re just feeling blue!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank all my lovely half-a-dozen readers for your continued support! I loved the kudos, I put them in a heart-shaped box beside my bed and kiss them every night before I go to sleep!

            After a week of laziness, the hobbit company was ready to leave Rivendell and head north, keeping a safe distance from the mountains for as long as Estel and Culuin had idea the goblin dwellings went. Obviously it wasn’t a certainty, as that wicked race always dug further and further under the earth, where they could grow the nasty kind of mushroom that was their main source of food, aside from huge mole-rats that provided them meat. Most of the work, though, was done by slaves they kidnapped in raids or that fell captive like the Company of Thorin Oakenshield almost fell.

            Estel had that knowledge out of his Ranger training, and Culuin had spend centuries hunting orcs and goblins along with Elladan and Elrohir. It just happened that in the last three hundred years the twins used to scout more often southwards, and Culuin became the leader of a party that used to scout northwards; Figwit was one to stay closer to Rivendell and used to ride along Elrond himself; and Nellas and Aredhel... They where themselves, and none questioned them. They decided they would escort the hobbit company, so they _would_ escort the hobbit company, period.

            Aredhel and Nellas were as opposite as day and night. Aredhel had soft silken hair light as silver, and eyes dark as the darkest mines of Moria. Her eyes shone with wild stars, being born in the elder days; a mere squire to Gil-Galad, yet a renown warrior by any account. Her gold-tanned hands wielded a long spear, black ebony shafted, the steel spearhead wrought with mithril and gold runes.

            Nellas’ eyes where pale as aquamarine surrounded by raven black eyelashes that contrasted with her pale skin, as did her lightly waved hair, which she kept out of her face with a single silver clasp. She was young for elven standards, more prone to laugher than Aredhel, having seen less death and suffering along her life. Even her little experience in battle was absurdly more than even Bilbo could account for, and she carried an amount of daggers that would surprise even Fíli, were he alive. The hobbits were told she was a wrestler few could match, too.

            As Bilbo predicted to his female cousins, they went to journey as womanly clad as Nellas and Aredhel. Meaning, in days before they set out, a pair of elven style female rider clothes that included no skirts and no dresses at all was made for Primula and Beryl. Weren’t it for the discomfort shoes caused to hobbits, they’d have a pair of riding boots also, but got along with only close fitting trousers, long sleeved chemises and leather hauberks. Had the deceased Goblin King seen the four of them together, no doubt he’d call the hobbits _elf puppies_ , making more justice than when he called Iris that way.

            The days they travelled Rhudaur plains of passage were plenty of occasions for the Shire hobbits to know more about the elves, and vice versa. Actually, the hobbits were easy to read, none of them caring to hide anything about their lives and always willing to tell an embarrassing story or two - or a dozen, more likely – about their friends, their family and even about themselves.

            The elves, on the other hand, used to be more reserved on their private lives, which made the hobbits even more curious. Estel, being the only human in the party, and having lived many years in Rivendell, just kept himself quiet and laughed at the hobbits’ antics to get reactions from the elves.

            One evening the party was feeling especially lighthearted, having not seen any sign of menace, and had camped middle afternoon, so Culuin and Figwit were able to hunt some hares that now roasted on the camp fire. Fresh meat was a welcome change, even for the elves, albeit their low need of protein.

            “We have told lots of stories from the Shire, now it’s your turn to tell us some stories too.”

            “By the way, can you tell us what does you name mean, Master Figwit? Pardon my curiosity, but I researched a bit in Elrond’s library and didn’t find the meaning.”

            The dark haired elf laughed merrily.

            “It is a mystery. My father has some foresight, nothing he can control, though, and when I was born he foresaw that in the future I would be know by a faraway people by this name. Then he thought, ‘ _if they will know him as Figwit, why should I bother giving him another name?’_ And so, Figwit I became.”

            “And you, Milady, what stories of your past may you share?”

            Drogo teased their blond escort, trying to get some information way back for a change. Aredhel answered darkly, not at all what the hobbits wished for, completely out of tune with the overall mood.

            “The stories I know are far too sad for so a merry lot.”

            Elladan tried to lighten up the dark cloud the silver haired elf carried above her head.

            “Your stories may be sad, but they tell much of courage, and noble deeds. You didn’t know, Drogo, but you asked for stories from one who witnessed things that many only know as legend.”

            “You name _courage_ what I name _need_ , Elladan. Ask your father; there was no option.”

            With this Aredhel stood up and walked away to the border of the nearby stream; Drogo made a gesture of following her to apologize, seeing how distressed she looked, but Nellas waved him back.

            “Let her be, Master Halfling; she will be well in a while.”

            “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know... I didn’t mean...”

            “Aredhel lost too much, too many friends and family in the wars against Morgoth and Sauron.”

            “Morgoth? But that was... thousands of years ago! She looks... I mean, she is...”

            “She is an elf, Drogo. You know we have unending life, but it seems you didn’t quite grasp the meaning of it. How old do you think we are?”

            Elrohir tried to explain to the stunned hobbit and his friends and Bilbo chuckled.

            “If we were a bunch of dwarves instead of hobbits, there would be a quarrel of bets by now!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            It was already dark and Aredhel didn’t come back; instead, she sat on a boulder by the creek, presumably in watch, when Nellas came to her side, sitting on the ground beside her, leaning her head to her tights. The blond elf caressed the dark haired one behind the delicate pointed ears, absentmindedly.

            “I’ll take next watch. Go find some food and sleep.”

            The older elf carded Nellas’ hair with longing eyes.

            “I’ll find some food. But only at your side I can find my sleep, sweet Velvet.”

            She leaned down and placed a kiss on the soft lips of the younger one, who leaned in, willingly, but stated nonetheless.

            “Let us be discrete, we may shock the halflings if they see us.”

            “And _what_ if they see us? We owe them nothing.”

            Nellas looked down, smilingly.

            “Don’t be so harsh, _Ar_. Not all peoples have surpassed prejudice, or even got to understand feelings go beyond the body. I just don’t want to shock our halfling friends if we don’t have to.”

            Aredhel shook her head at the dark haired one, for it was the umpteenth time the issue came to light in the last two thousand years.

            “I don’t want to shock whomever it might be; but I will not restrain myself to show what I feel for you on behalf of prejudices. None of them was there to say I could or could not fight darkness on their behalf, yet so I did; so, they have no right to say I can or I cannot love whomever I love.”

            Nellas squeezed her eyes and then popped out saucer eyes and a giggle.

            “You’ll never make new friends if you keep this serious mask of yours. Come on, laugh with me!”

            The blond elf looked at the ridiculous face of her partner and breathed deep for control.

            “Don’t. Make. Me. Laugh.”

            “The ranger was looking for dunes and didn’t understand why he couldn’t find them. Where was he?”

            “Argh. Dunland.”

            “Why do Chetwood woman suffer at childbirth?”

            “No, not this one, please!”

            “Because the babies come Breech! And what does the ranger girl wear instead of a bodice when it rains?”

            Aredhel had given up trying to be serious and was almost rolling on the ground laughing. It was impossible to keep her mask when Nellas was in her teasing mood.

            “A Weather-Top! Oh, shut up, Velvet, these ones are almost as old as me!”

            “What was Michael doing in the middle of the Shire?”

            “Delving! Michael Delving, silly one! The halflings will love this one.”

            “Why are the mountains close to Lindon so depressed?”

            “They are not depressed, they’re just feeling blue!”

            “And what...”

            “Stop, Velvet, just stop!”

            The blonde grabbed Nellas’s wrist and pulled her closer, almost out of breath of laughing.

            “Now that I brought you back to the world of the smiling, go eat and then sleep. Looking grumpy doesn’t help to make people accept you as you are.”

            Aredhel rolled her eyes.

            “But I _am_ grumpy, what’s the matter? Were I a dwarf, none would notice.”

            Nellas cupped her face and for once looked serious.

            “No, you are not. Not grumpy nor dwarf. You are _my_ sunshine. No go play the civilized one amongst the halflings. They are not to blame for any sad story any of us has in the past. And none of them has meant any disapproval of us so far.”

            “What would be of me if it weren’t for you, sweet Velvet?”

            “Well, you would probably get bored to death and fade into the West, but as I have no intention of _ever_ be away from you…”

            They laughed at Nellas’ joke, Aredhel changing a strand of her black hair from place and standing up.

            “I’ll ask someone to release you from watch as soon as it may.”

            “It is already arranged. Just go eat and I’ll find you later.”

            “Is this a promise?”

            “No!” Nellas took a pair of Balisong knifes out of a pocket and begun to play with them and to smile wickedly. “It is a threat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because those kids are really impossible, and bunnies are cute.


	11. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “These two are going to give us a lot of trouble when they grow up. I cannot even begin to imagine Lyn being courted by someone.”  
>  Bofur twisted his moustache, thinking.  
>  “Actually, I can, but only by someone who can run faster than you can bow-shot.”  
>  “No, I can’t imagine that; so, why worry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Age summary:   
> Dís: Daughter of Thráin, Kíli's mother; D.A. 209;   
> Kíli: Son of Dís; D.A. 105;   
> Ellen: Sister of Wolfram, aunt of Lily and Iris, wife of Kíli; E.A. adult; H.A. 35  
> Thorin "Knee": Firstborn son of Kíli and Ellen; D.A. 26; H.A. 14  
> Frérin: Second son of Kíli; D.A. 21; H.A. 12  
> Lyn: Third child of Kíli, his first daughter; D.A. 15; H.A. 10  
> Fíli: Fourth child of Kíli, his third son; D.A. 10; H.A. 7  
> Kim: Fifth child of Kíli, his second daughter; D.A. 4; H.A. 3  
> Firc : Daughter of Bofur; D.A. 16; H.A. 10  
> Zifur : Son of Bofur; D.A. 10; H.A. 7  
> Difur and Dibur: Twin sons of Bombur; D.A. 14; H.A. 9  
> Nari son of Ori 13: Son of Ori; D.A. 13; H.A. 9
> 
> D.A. = Dwarf age  
> H.A. = equivalent Human age

            Ellen put Kili to soak in the bathtub while Dís went to Bofur’s house fetch Lyn and Fili who where there playing with the toymaker’s youngsters. Kim was awake when her parents got home and Leri was entertaining her with a set of wooden throwing knives and they felt it was perfect for Kili to wash down the dirt from the road. Now he was relaxing at her hands that washed his hair with care while they talked.

            “You know, it always makes me sad when I see the lads at some mischief like today. It makes me miss Fili so much...”

            “I know, love. I have not known your brother as long as I would have liked to, but I miss him too, you know.” She carded his hair to disentangle some knots. “He told me once you and him adventured into a council meeting you weren’t summoned to, wasn’t it so? That’s why I held myself when Balin begun to threaten them.”

            The dwarf smiled, although his eyes were still set into the distance.

            “Aye, it was! Only that we didn’t get into the council chamber under a dinner-wagon, rather we hid ourselves behind a curtain.” He let his head fall back into her hands while she massaged his temples. “When Uncle found us out – and that was not long after the meeting started – he gave us _that look_ , you know? Like if we were some kind of filth.”

            She laughed.

            “I know _that look_! Being and elf, I’ve got enough of that stares along the first months of our journey. Even when he agreed to our relationship, he kept glaring at me for everything and for nothing at all for a long time.”

            He acknowledged her statement with a nod, and kept venting out his memories.

            “Then he gave us the same penalty Mother gave the lads today, and I can tell you we didn’t want to be summoned to a council meeting for some decades after!”

            The elf poured clean water from a jar to rinse his hair and began to massage his shoulders with soaped hands.

            “When will you tell them they are not under suspicion?”          

            Kili turned his head to look at her, smilingly.

            “I deem after a good patch of the library is dusted would be fair. But it was you who demanded that penalty, it is you who have to name its length.”

            “Ok. I’ll wait until they find something _very_ interesting in the library; if they learn that the knowledge of what was written there is significant, it will be enough.”

            They laughed, but then Ellen’s hand pressed on an old scar and Kili winced.

            “Ouch, sorry, this one is always sore.”

            “It is all right. There are scars that never truly heal. Every time I think of my brother there is something that hurts more.”

            “Keep the faith. You know you will meet at the Hall of Waiting, someday. Of course I hope this day is still very far away, but it will come, you know.”

            He finished his bath and stepped out of the tub, drying himself. The confidence in the words and voice of his wife was not out of blind faith. The Valar heard her plea for his life when he died in the Battle of Five Armies, and Mahal reforged him back to life. He bore not even a scar where the hideous orc sword tore his chest, nor did her arm where she cut herself as a sacrifice of blood for his life. But it wasn’t enough. She paid for his life with her immortal elven life, like Lúthien Tinúviel ages before on behalf of Beren. She kept her elven features, like unaging and fast healing, but she would eventually die. After his own death, she would follow him.

            “I know. And you will find me there, too. I will be waiting for you.”

            Ellen smiled and leaned down to kiss him.

            “Let us live while there is life.”

            Kili held her tight and an experienced hand trailed her back fumbling for the laces of her dress. She backed off, trying and failing to look stern.

            “What are you doing? The Company will be here soon, I must arrange a lot of things before they’re here!”

            He tried to persuade her with his best puppy eyes and sheepish smile.

            “But you said we should live while there is life, so…”

            She shook her head, laughing.

            “Kili Elvenblood, you are impossible!”

            He buried his face in her breasts, thinking once more time how fortunate was their match, even if most of the world thought it weird for him to have a wife more than a foot taller, not to mention being of another race. Smelling the scent of her skin was enough for him to forget any philosophical issue about their differences, and he fumbled again for the laces of her gown, not letting his face stray from her breasts.

            “Hmm, the Company can wait, I’ve been too long far away from you!”

            “Love, you’ve gone to Dale just yesterday!”

            Ellen complained mockingly, but her fingernails were tracing his back and her breath was getting faster.

            “No, it was an age ago, and I dreamt of my elven fancy every night.”

            She laughed as he unfastened her gown and let it pool at her feet, scratching her breasts with his short beard and kissing her nips, as he knew she loved. It took them not long to head to their sleeping room, feasting with their friends completely forgotten for the time being. He shoved her onto their bed, diving over her like she was the last saving buoy in the ocean, grabbing her flesh in his hands, claiming her mouth hungrily.

            “I missed you.”

            “I need you.”

            He trailed her throat with his tongue, whilst she worked his shoulders with her long fingers to feel his muscles and to have him all for herself. He headed down to find her nipples, giving each one its due attention, and she grabbed his hair as she locked herself around him, crossing her ankles at his back, keeping him as close to her as she could.

            “I’m so thirsty...”

            His hands left her waist and trailed to her thighs, even if his mouth still played with her breasts. She shifted her legs, sprawling herself to his desire, and sought for her own wetness with two fingers, which she presented to his lips to be licked and suckled eagerly.

            “Drink my honey...”

            He groaned into her, scraping the sides of her body with his short fingernails, delighting in her taste; she pushed him down lightly, but it was enough for him to run his harsh beard along her stomach just to stop at her wet and eager folds, which he licked leisurely. His hands grabbed her tights, making her feel the warmth of his skin and his eager tongue prodding into her depths. Kili held her tight to him, not letting her squirm away from his hungry mouth, even when she was no more able to hold her moans.

            The elf was breathing hard, grabbing Kili’s forearms as his hands reached for her breasts whilst he kept suckling her clit. He freed one hand to reach for her folds again, sticking one rough finger into Ellen’s core to find the spot that made stars explode inside of her, his tongue never failing to pleasure her, rhythmic, hot, hypnotic, and she cried out his name, clenching her hands in his disheveled and dump hair.

            Sensing her release, Kili trailed his way back to her throat and neck with his mouth, brushing her pale skin with his short beard, biting lightly her breasts as he knew she delighted.

            Feeling her husband all over her body, Ellen took advantage of her long frame and threw him aside on the bed, pinning his arms under her hands. Obviously, he could throw her away at any moment if he wished, by sheer physical advantage, but letting himself to be manhandled was part of the game. Her legs were wrapped around his, and it was her time to bite his skin and to kiss his nips teasingly.

            She steadied herself straddled on him, holding his cock close to her sweated belly and working it with one hand while the other kept him tackled on the mattress, playing with the curly hair of his chest.

            “Do you still want me to stay at home when you go meet Dale’s folk?”

            “Are you so eager to spend time with that boring people?”      

            “I’m always eager to spend a night with you after a boring meeting.”

            “I don’t want to talk serious now, but we can negotiate things.”

            “I always love to negotiate.”

            “What do you want to negotiate right now?”

            Ellen threw her head back and chuckled, not for a moment stopping to work his organ up and down, then she lowered herself down until her lips touched his ear and muttered something that made Kili’s eyes grow wide.

            “Do you want me to arrange more meetings with Dale’s people? I think I can manage a meeting per week at least!”

            They both laughed, and Ellen licked her palm before caressing the head of his cock, slowly and teasingly, an evil look in her eyes.

            “Reckless Kili, what do you want _me_ to arrange?”

            He relaxed his shoulders back into the mattress whilst grabbing her waist and bringing his elven wife closer to his chest, enjoying her warmth and unending care for his cock; then he turned her back to the mattress and hooked her knees on his shoulders in the same movement, his eyes like brazen coals.

            “I want you to arrange myself inside of you, fancy elf.”

            Ellen let out a side-mouthed grin and grabbed his hair as she felt him thrust inside of her, making her moan in pleasure; he leaned over her and she let her legs slide to his sides only to cross her ankles at his back.

            “It’s cold outside, come in where it’s warm.”

            Kili didn’t wait for a second offer and knelt on the bed, lifting her knees to his shoulders again, letting him slide deeply into her core; one hand held her tights close to his chest while the other played with her clit, wetting his thumb in her own wetness, making his thrusts match his finger work.

            His chest hair prickled the back of her tights and his hand found just the perfect place to tease her while his manhood claimed her depths harder and faster, everything endorsing his maleness and her femininity, dwarf and elf enjoying their love and desire.

            “Kili, come...!”

            She shouted at her own new release, her body not answering to any command, while his own trembled over her and thrust some more times, panting heavily. He buried his face into her breasts, helpless, and lowered himself to one side to relieve her from his weight. Ellen played lazily with his hair until their breathing was even again, and then they begun to recompose themselves; Kili put on a blue shirt and winked at her.

            “Now I’m able to wait until after dinner!”

* * *

 

            “Hey, Lucky One, glad to see your hat!”

            Bofur was greeted by Kíli with his usual amused smirk. Having a girl as first-born gave him that nickname, as it was considered very lucky indeed. He and Zirc went to Kíli’s house along with Dís and the children, as they were ready to go and wanted to lend a hand organizing things, as usual. The families had barely exchanged greetings when a loud wail came from the living room where Leri was entertaining Kim.

            “Now, now, what do we have here?”

            Kíli asked, seeing his little girl in tears.

            “ _Fee_ took _daggas_ , _Kee_ wanna _daggas_!”

            The king looked at the child-carer, clueless.

            “Kim was playing with Fíli’s throwing knifes, and he got them back.”

            “She didn’t ask to take my daggers, Da! They are mine, my favourite!”

            The youngster pouted and his father suppressed a chuckle.

            “I know they are your favourite, Fíli; that’s why Kim wants to play with them. You are a brave warrior to Kim, so she wants to be like you.”

            Fíli looked at his sister with suspicious eyes.

            “True?”

            The dark haired girl looked up at him with wide puppy eyes like her father’s.

            “ _T’ue_. _Kee_ wanna be _B’AVE_ like _Fee_.”

            “But this doesn’t mean you can take your brother’s toys without asking, Kim. What should say to him now?”

            “ _So’wy, Fee_.”

            The girl opened her arms to hug her brother, who couldn’t resist her openness and hugged her back.

            “All right, _Kee_ , just don’t’ take them without me knowing. Come, I’ll teach you how to throw them.”

            Bofur watched the interaction leaned at the door frame, smiling, as memories of two brothers back at the Blue Mountains flashed through his mind.

            “You know, it is not the first pair of Durin’s that I see whining on a favourite toy.”

            “Only because all toys you made were our favourites.”

            “You are too kind; you’re saying this because my toys were the only ones that endured you and your brother more than a week.”

            “It doesn’t change the fact that they were our favourites.”

            The friends chuckled, looking at the children. Bofur’s second one, Zifur, joined them and the boys cheered Kim up everytime her shot got close to the target.

            “Funny that it ended up being a _Fee_ and a _Kee_ again.”

            “Aye. Mahal knows how much I miss _my_ _Fee_.”

            Bofur perceived where the talk was leading to.

            “Sorry, lad, I didn’t mean...”

            Kíli shook his head, dismissing Bofur’s apologies.

            “It is all right, Lucky; I’ve been thinking of my brother lately, it’s not your fault. Maybe because the remaining of the Company will be joining soon, after so many years. I had only one brother, and no cousin at all, you know.”

            “Cousin? Your problem is a cousin? Then you have no problem at all, my lad! You see, I can provide you a cousin as good as you might find in the finest markets of Erebor and Dale, just name your price! He can be annoying as any cousin could ever be, with the advantage that he is very, very quiet, if you don’t mind to communicate  solely in Iglishmêk and Old Khuzdul, actually most of the time in Iglishmêk; I can deliver a cousin to you any day of the week, just name your price!”

            The young dwarven king was doubling himself in laughter at Bofur’s marketing techniques trying to sell him Bifur.

            “Considering he has an orc axe head imbedded in his head I can make a nice price for you, but I swear it doesn’t discredit him as a nice cousin and wonderful warrior.”

            Kíli was slapping his tight by now, guffawing; right then both their older daughters rushed in, trying to steal little Kim to themselves as a living doll.

            “Come, Kim, we will braid your hair like a princess!”

            “ _Kee_ wanna _t’ow daggas, Sis_!”

            “But we will make you the most astoundingly beautiful maiden in whole Erebor, Kim! Please, let us do your hair!”

            “ _Daggas_.”

            “Hair!”

            “ _Daggas_!

            “Nice dress full of lace!”

            “ _Da-ggas!_ ”

            Fíli laughed at them, blinking at Zifur and teasing his older sister.

            “To play with brothers is always more fun than to play with sisters, isn’t it, _Kee_?”

            The youngster nodded, agreeing.

            “ _Kee_ play _wi’_ _Fee_!”

            Lyn looked at Firc, defeated.

            “No way, my stubborn sister already has her own mind. Let’s go to my room, we can play with my dolls.”

            The girls left for Lyn’s room, and the adults laughed lightly again.

            “Like if she didn’t abandon any girl friend on behalf of playing along with Knee and Frérin until a couple of years ago.”

            “Aye, but now our girls are getting _sooo_ girlish, ain’t they?”

            Kíli punched Bofur lightly on his arm, friendly.

            “These two are going to give us a lot of trouble when they grow up. I cannot even begin to imagine Lyn being courted by someone.”

            Bofur twisted his moustache, thinking.

            “Actually, I can, but only by someone who can run faster than you can bow-shot.”

            “No, I can’t imagine that; so, why worry?”

* * *

 

            Most of the Company had arrived, and Dwalin was sharing his pork crisps with Lyn, who was perched in his lap like a good niece, as braiding his beard was more fun than anything in her life, save pestering her older brothers. Said older brothers were helping to set the table along with Dori and Ori, who thanked them profusely for their _offer_ to help dusting the library, promising them it would be an adventure like no other. The boys had their own ideas of what the word adventure meant, and only exchanged desperate looks. The slingshot master was not accounted by them as someone who had the right idea of what an adventure meant, even if he was member of the original Company; their prejudice allowed them to see only the scribe, the brother of strong Dori and smart Nori, not quite understanding the amount of nerve it took to slingshot a troll or a warg.

            Dís was welcoming the main kitchen staff with the meal when Bombur arrived with his youngsters and Dahl, walking slowly due to her advanced pregnancy. Bofur was nicknamed Lucky One for having a girl as first born, but having twins made Bombur be envied just the same. Soon the Ur brothers joined Ellen and Dís in the planning of Bilbo and Iris’s wedding. It would not be a dwarvish wedding, of course, as neither of them was a dwarf, but it was to them to prepare everything and time was getting closer. Everyone who was to be invited had been so at least a year before, wine and ale had been dimensioned and ordered, and some of the food also. Bofur stated.

            “I don’t believe they would like to have the ceremony in the Temple, hobbits are too fond of outsides, green grass and stuff.”

            “Sure, even if they dwell underground.”

            “So, where do you thing would be a nice place, Ellen? You know more about your niece’s likes and dislikes.”

            “A flower filed would be perfect, but it is autumn, so this is not an option. Maybe a wheat field, in our culture wheat is a symbol for fertility, and good omen on a wedding. But with Dalle’s men extra work on the harvest, I don’t think we should disturb the crops. Maybe we could look for a nice wide place east of the Mountain to have the morning sun for the ceremony and shade in the afternoon while we feast.”

            “And we can set tents for if it rains.”

            “Or move to the feasting hall. None will want to stay three days outside; not the dwarves, anyway.”

            Dís was always practical when thinking of what her people would more likely do. Bombur came out with an even solution.

            “We can set tents for if it rains and keep the feasting outside the first day, and then move to the feasting hall the next two days. It will make our hobbits happy and not disturb indoors routine.”

            “Aye, this can be done. Depending on how far the filed will be we can have carts to carry people there and back again.” Bofur offered, and then it struck him. “Hey, if they are not having a dwarven ceremony, who will hold it? Is Bilbo bringing someone to do the talking?”

            “Not that I’m aware. Who could we call?” Answered Ellen, scratching her chin, thinking with them.

            Their thinking was interrupted by an outburst of laughing kids chasing one after the other, being little Kim the target of their run. The toddler threw herself on Ellen’s lap with a brown furry heap in her arms.

            “Look, Ma! _Kee_ has _BUNNY_!”

            In no moment at all the adults were surrounded by the excited youngsters who wanted to talk all at once.

            “Can we have a bunny, Adad?

            “There’s a gray one too!”

            “They are nice, Da, please!”

            The pleas were directed to the elf and Bofur and Bombur too, all of them confused by the bunny wish attack.

            “I’d choose the white one with black tipped ears!”

            “There’s a lot, Ma, I’m sure he would give us one if we ask nicely!”

            “And who is this _he_ that would give you bunnies, if I may ask?” Dís took the huge brown rabbit from a protesting Kim. “To whom do these bunnies belong?”

            A brown hatted shadow showed himself against the doorframe, a wooden staff in his hand and an amused smile on his lips when he bowed low.

            “They are friends to Radagst, milady, at your service!”

* * *

 

            To the dwarflings’ disappointment, Radagast’s rabbits were not for giving or selling, but he promised the kids they could play with the bunnies and help to take care of them during his stay in Erebor. Knowing the schedule, he organized himself to spend the most time possible training his new fellow wizard, as both of them had been appointed by Yavanna, the Valie who sang tree and leaf before the world was made, and who was mother of every growing thing like her husband, Aulë, was father to every stone and gem. It was believed that the halflings, being so attached to the earth and everything that grew on in it, were creatures bred from Yavannas’ doings, as the dwarves were her husband’s creatures. So different and so alike, Aulë and Yavanna, dwarves and hobbits.

            “I must excuse myself for this disturbance, but it is not every century that my Lady in the West sends someone she chose to work for her, and you see, for what I know, he _really_ needs some training.”

            “My dear Radagast, you don’t have to excuse yourself for anything at all, never! You were the first person I ever met in Middle-Earth, and if it weren’t for you, I don’t want to think what would have happened to me and my nieces. Your care in training my brother only contributes. I’ll always be in debt to you. It is me who will always be at your service, you know.”

            The brown-clad wizard dismissed her words with a weave of his hand.

            “When your brother is unreachable to you because of your choices in life and comes to stay so little time at your home, to keep him apart from you to train him is something that should be apologized, lass.”

            “But if in this little time his potential is needed and not used because of lack of training, it would be unforgivable. Also, he might need this training when he goes back to his world, as for what we figured out Yavanna chose him while he was there.”

            “That is true.”

            “Now, Radagast, come on, how is this that she reached him there? Do the Valar have free pass from one world to another?”

            The weird wizard winked at her, amused.

            “Do you really think the Gates you know are the only ones?”

            Ellen pondered his words, nodding her understanding, and then their talk was interrupted by a smiling Dori, who got two rabbits in his arms, followed by a dwarfling a bit older than Fíli and just one year younger than Bombur’s twins.

            “Dori, dear, I didn’t see you coming, how’re doing, my friend?” The elf hugged the strong dwarf, taking care not to smash the rabbits, then turned to Rori. “And you, little one, won’t you greet me with a hug and a kiss?”

            The shy boy nodded and did as asked, a tentative look on the rabbits and then to the wizard, to whom Dori was bowing low in greeting.

            “Mister Radagast, my nephew here told me these conies belong to your person?”

            “There creatures belong only to themselves, mister Dori, as should be with every living soul in this blessed world.”

            The boy gave his uncle a pleading look with his slightly squinted eyes, but Radagast’s words just confirmed what the other kids said.

            “No way, lad, you can’t have everything you wish for.”

            Radagast read between the lines and added, much to Dori’s vexing.

            “You can play with them, laddie, if they want to play with you.”

            “Like the others?”

            “Yes, like the others.”

            “And they won’t bite or scratch me?”

            “They don’t use to bite and scratch, they are nice fellows if you treat them nicely too.” Radagast informed the boy, who sent a gaze of daggers to his uncle.

            “Mister Radagast, are you sure it is safe to…”

            “Of course it is safe to play with the rabbits, mister Dori; at least it is safe for the children, I’m not so sure about it being safe for the rabbits, but as they enjoy it, I’ll not interfere in the rabbits decisions, you see.”

            Ellen held her chuckle at Dori’s fussing over his nephew because of a fluffy rabbit. No surprise Rori was so timid and scared of anything, the amount of care Dori lavished on his brothers now he tenfold on his nephew. She really hoped Ori would provide more younglings, and that Nori would find his match and provide some too, else Rori would be bound to have a very complicated life.

 

* * *

 

            “Uncle Balin, you know we are not spies, don’t you?”

            Two very upset Durin’s heirs managed to sit by each side of the white haired dwarf who was enjoying himself watching the bunny-dwarfling mess a corner of the room had turned into. All the eight younglings had turned into a ball of fur with most of Radagast’s rabbits. Balin put his pipe down on a low table and reached his arms on both younglings’s shoulders.

            “Of course I know, laddies.”

            Knee let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Frérin relaxed his tense muscles, melting on the couch. It was a relief. The youngest lad questioned his uncle then, complaining.

            “Then, why did you accuse us too and let us be punished? We are not evil, Uncle!”

            The aged dwarf chuckled.

            “What have you learnt from what happened, laddies? Have you learnt anything at all?”

            “Aye, that council meetings can be booooooooring!”

            “Just this, Frérin? Anything else? Thorin, lad?”

            Knee always thought it strange to be called by his given name, so used he was to his nickname; Balin was one of the few who called him Thorin, even if seldom.

            “That when we are told to don’t do something, there is a reason?”

            Balin nodded, almost satisfied.

            “And what else?”

            “Ouch, Uncle, can you please just tell us what all that meant? Just for once, please, tell us something without us having to work everything out in our minds first!”

            The old counsellor looked at each one of them in turn, amused.

            “Like as if when you are in a real politics council someone will call you aside and tell you what is happening without you having to make your brains work…”

            “Uncle!”

            “All right, laddies. If you really want to hear it, I’ll tell you.”

            The boys smiled; that was the usual password for Balin’s never ending stories, after which any issue that made him begin his telling was already forgotten. They loved the elderly dwarf, an uncle as different from their mother as it could be, but sometimes they could mistake the words of one as having come from the other.

            “Imagine, laddies, that you attend a council meeting, where very important issues are discussed, strategic matters, secret subjects; and then you are kidnapped and tortured to reveal what you know of this council meeting. What then?”

            “We would endure any torture and never utter a word, Uncle!”

            Knee was visible disgusted by the thought that he or his closest brother could open their mouths to any given threat.

            “This is what all of us want to believe, laddie. But you are still a child, even if you don’t want to believe it. I don’t doubt you would endure any torture to keep your people’s secrets concealed; but what if someone took your brother Frérin and tortured him in front of you? Or one of your younger siblings?”

            Both youngsters paled at the idea, catching what was implicit in Balin’s words. Someone touching Lyn filled them with rage, and no good would befall anyone who dared to hurt Fíli; to have little Kim manhandled was completely out of question.

            “Wait until you come of age to meddle with adult matters. You’ll have plenty of time to attend meetings, boring or not, and help Durin’s folk to grow and to prosper.” Balin squeezed his nephews to him, happy to have those younglings always eager to hear his stories; which reminded him of one of them. “Do you know you are not the first Durin’s heirs to attend a council meeting they weren’t invited to?”

            That sounded interesting.

            “What, Uncle? Who else?”

            “Yes, Uncle Balin, who?”

            He chuckled.

            “That your father and your uncle Fíli were known for their misdoings you are well aware, I suppose; but they have not been the first, either, even having done almost the same as you.”

            “Not the first? Who else, then?”

            A white and black rabbit decided to take a rest from the dwarflings and settled himself on Balin’s lap, hiding its face under Frérin’s arm.

            “Actually, I should say you are not the first Thorin and Frérin to be caught spying a meeting!”

            “What? Granduncles did it too?”

            “And you will be stunned when I tell you who helped them and was caught and given the same punishment they got – that was exactly the same punishment you both got today, except for the library dusting, of course.”

            The boys’ eyes twinkled with curiosity and amusement.

            “Who was it, Uncle Balin?”

            A huge shadow hovered over them, and they heard the answer from another lips.

            “It was a halfwit dwarfling who didn’t know better than to heed his old brother’s advice and always got himself into trouble!”

            The boys looked back at Dwalin, laughing at the discovery of his mischieves.

            “If you three followed exactly what I planned none of you would have been caught, brother!”

            “If I were as short as you, I would not have bumped my head under the table!” The younglings roared in laughter at their uncles’ antics. “Now, all of you, supper is ready, time to eat.”

 

* * *

 

            It was a very large table to bear the full Company and respective wives and children, plus Radagast and his rabbits, who were foraged with plenty of greens and fruit, thanks to a certain elf’s eating habits. The very last moment additions were Rärc and his daughter Crîck, a gorgeous raven who cracked the egg the same season Lyn was born, but in raven age that meant she was a bit more mature than Knee. It was a pleasant evening, everybody eating and chatting at ease on the most miscellaneous topics.

            “Bombur, my fluffy cake, can ye help me a slice of roast?”

            Said fluffy cake made sure Dhal had a thick slice of roast, a couple of potatoes and a handful of string bean in her plate before she could protest.

            “This is too much, I can’t eat all ye put in my plate!”

            “Ye must eat, the baby needs food.”

            “If I eat this much there will be no room for the baby!”

            “Good, it is time for him to come out, anyway.”

            Óin intervened on her behalf.

            “No way, it must be a whole moon yet, to all accounts.”

            Dhal cupped her own cheeks and roller her eyes at the prospect.

            “Good Mahal, one whole moon yet and I’m barely able to walk anymore!”

            Ras, Ori’s wife, was one who could relate.

            “You are at that point when all you want it to leave your belly somewhere and rest a bit, ain’t you?”

            All women at the table laughed at the mention.

            “Ras, you have to forget the discomfort, else you’ll never have another one to cuddle.”

            “Milady Dís, I really don’t mind the discomfort, but I can’t forget that at the end of my pregnancy it was like walking with a giant pumpkin attached to my belly, and it kicked!”

            “Never mention kicking! Lyn was so good at kicking that she would awake _me_ in the middle of the night sometimes. I don’t know how Ellen could sleep at all.”

            Even Kíli had to complain on pregnancy matters, and he had a lot of them to recall.

            “I have the theory that pregnancy is the best sleeping drug in the world, I could sleep all day long when allowed.”

            “I allowed you whenever was possible.” Kíli pouted. “But I really miss you a lot when you are with child.”

            The elf chuckled, leaning closer to him.

            “Don’t be jealous, it is always for a good cause…”

            “Hey, hey, lovebirds, can you lend me the hot sauce?” Glóin interrupted the couple. “If we don’t control these two we’ll have to dig another mountain just to lodge Durin’s heirs!”

            “What brings to my mind…” Óin started, a sausage middle way to his mouth. “There is still a mountain I’d like to see reclaimed. Better still, a set of mountains.”

            Balin’s eyes glinted.

            “ _That_ set of mountains would be a real prize, indeed.”

            “If the ale is free, you can count on me!”

            “Bofur, you are hopeless!”

            “ _Maybe the orc that gave me this axe is still there and I can give him the axe back._ ”

            Bifur’s mixture of Iglîshmeck and Old Khuzdul was even worse to understand after a mug of ale or two, and he had had several already. Rärc used the relative silence to ask his own question.

            “What mountains are of interest to ye dwarves to reclaim?”

            “Our holiest home of old in the Misty Mountains, Khazad-Dum.”

            Several sets of eyes pinned on Balin. The name of their ancient realm, last home of Durin I, was held both in awe and in fear. Kíli’s eyes glistened dreamy at the thought.

            “Mithril…”

            Only to be whacked by his mother.

            “Pebbles!”

            “Ma!”

            “Do not ever mention this name in front of me! Haven’t I have enough? Did wars and quests not take enough from me? What more do you want me to lose?”

            “It’s only an idea, Ma!”

            “Yes, an _idea_! To an _idea_ of wealth Smaug was attracted to Erebor, the _idea_ of vengeance led to a six year war against the orcs, only to end with the death of Frérin, Thrór and thousands of our people. You yourself, Balin, should not utter the name of the place that took the life of your father. _Ideas_! The _idea_ of retaking Erebor took me my brother and my firstborn, don’t tell me about _ideas_!”

            Dís had really got distraught this time; her hands trembled, and her eyes were clouded. Kíli’s gentle touch to her face seemed to calm her, a reassuring smile telling her nothing would be wrong anymore.

            “It is all right, Ma. We don’t need Khazad-Dum. We have everything we can dream of right here and in the Blue Mountains.” For the smallest moment her face showed her real age, wrinkles of worry and sorrow shadowing her beautiful eyes. Kíli’s words lifted the shadow and made her smile again. “Except for mithril, of course!”

            A second whack reminded Kíli to beware of his mother, but now he run around the table with her chasing after him. The rabbits found it was some kind of grand prix and joined the race, to what the kids felt like being summoned to join too. Soon Dís was coordinating the children to besiege Kíli, who was efficiently cornered where the rabbits had been playing with the dwarflings, and tackled down by the whole bunch. Even Crîck managed to peck at his hair while the children tickled him.

            “Help! Someone help your king!”

            Ellen approached the heap of tiny warriors who subdued her husband, trying and failing to control her laughter.

            “I can help you, but only if you promise never more to consider retaking Khazad-Dum. Dealt?”

            “Dealt! Now save me from these devils, I can’t breathe!”

            The elf clapped her hands, claiming the youngling’s attention.

            “Children! Dessert!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because you should beware of snow in the mountains


	12. The Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Ferumbras, why don’t you tell me what that bet was, just in case?” Drogo asked, in hope. “It can save us from the same treatment they are lavishing you.”  
>  “Never!”

            When the hobbits and their escort reached the Coldfells it became obvious to the halflings why the Erú-forsaken region had that name. Nothing really related to any use of the word “fell”, unless that the barren skirts of the Misty Mountains range looked like some old wrinkled leather, but it was clear whoever gave that name needed something to go along with “cold”.

            It was high summer and they chilled at mid-day, shivered in the afternoon and froze at night, despite any amount of clothes and any size they built the camp fire. The soup cooled in the bowls before it was eaten, and even the sturdy hobbit feet showed blisters and blues from the cold. For once Beryl and Primula were glad for wearing trousers instead of skirts, and even their male cousins were wrapping their legs and feet in blankets while riding. Beryl’s stubbornness in keeping her hobbitish bonnet despite wearing elven clothes rewarded her with at least something to keep her head from freezing. Nothing could hold the cold and the constant wind.

            “Why is this place so obnoxiously cold? We’re going to freeze to death if the weather doesn’t warm up a bit!”

            “Trolls don’t like the cold, Master Bilbo, and that is reason enough.”

            The hobbit sent Culuin a confused look.

            “And so...?”

            “Northwards from here are the Ettenmoors, where trolls have bred in the last thousands of years; we have never been able to completely whip them away and cleanse the land, but we managed to keep a safe patch of land on behalf of crossing the mountain range. Your friends the dwarves are quite grateful for this, as they use the Hoardale river path and the same crossing we will make.”

            “And what does this have to do with the cold?”

            The green-eyed elf smirked, positively amused by the opportunity of showing the power his people held.

            “The cold, Master Bilbo, is provided by us.”

            The halfling looked around like seeing the landscape for the first time. The set of mountains they were to cross was not as high as south or north, and had not even snow on its peaks; the Hoardale river could be seen in the distance, they were some miles from it but the shine of the sun on the water was unmistakable; on the north bank, he could discern the green of water weeds and cattail. No cattail nor underbrush in the south bank, where they were.

            It was impressive. He knew elves had magic, though Iris and Ellen called it _technology_ , but this was too much. To change climate? No. Wait.

            “Master Culuin, may I ask you how, for goodness sake, do elves meddle with weather if not even Gandalf does it?”

            The elves roared in laughter like Bilbo had never seen before, only for him to feel stupid with his purple cheeks of _they-got-me-thinking-stupid_ , which was as true as redundant. Estel was the one to rescue him.

            “Don’t believe in everything you hear, not even from elven lips!”

            Primula held her pony back a bit so she could talk to the human without twisting her neck like an owl.

            “Can you please make things clear instead of mocking my cousin? We are respectfully using our natural curiosity to gather information on this death-freezing land and you all just make Bilbo look like an... ah...”

            “No adjectives, please, Prim, I can do without!”

            Aredhel finally stopped laughing and came to rescue them.

            “We don’t meddle with the weather, halfling; we just found out how to tunnel and potentiate the cold winds from the mountain range. It’s not something that can be done and undone easily, so the chilling of this patch of land is permanent as long as our devices work. No magic at all.”

            Bilbo nodded in understanding, and some of the others grunted in agreement, but most of the elves were flustered; Elrohir was one to complain.

            “Aredhel, you kill-joy!

            “Now, now, I’m just trying to be _not_ the grumpy one to our hobbit friends, for once, and you condemn me for revealing your prank? I should give up, then.”

            “No, please, Lady Aredhel, we felt really pleased to have you speak some ungrumpy words to us at last!”

            Ferdinand had not quite the best choice of words, but that made the silver haired elf laugh again. Saradoc was as half-witted as his cousin and gave his contribution.

            “Yes, Lady Aredhel, we really appreciate when you are not mad at someone!”

            “Or when the someone you are mad at is taller than four feet!”

            Merimac could be as half-wit as his brother, if not worse. Drogo, instead, was very interested in how stuff worked, and guessed if the hobbits had such knowledge then, the worst the Shire suffered through the Fell Winter could have been spared.

            “Lady Aredhel, please enlighten me; in the likes you keep this land cold, could you make a land keep warm? Or, at least, warm a patch of land when needed?”

            They crossed a creek and trotted a bit more until a flatter land was reached, before the silver haired elf was comfortable to answer him without shouting.

            “It should be asked to my Lord Elrond; he was the one who designed these devices and has the knowledge that encompasses them, though I helped to build them, long ago.”

            “It is not easy, master Drogo, to deal with air conditioning, nor always safe. This pass was the only ever wrought, in times when our people and Thranduil’s had more dealings and we used to travel hereabout more frequently.” Elladan steadied himself on the saddle, stretching his limbs. “Nowadays the dwarves use it when travelling from Erebor to Ered Luin, or rather the opposite, unaware this cold and the lack of trolls even if close to the Ettenmoors is due to elven efforts. I really fear what may become of this path if ever the weather devices break.”

            He stopped and dismounted, as did the others, much to the hobbits’ dismay.

            “Must we go on foot?”

            “The path is too steep for the horses from now on, we will make it faster on foot.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Later that day they reached what should be the highest point of the mountain pass. River Hoardale had long turned into a creek and by now it was only a bog to their left, fed by drippings from the rock.

            “Cheer up, halfling friends, we will spend the night on the east side of the mountain range, the wind will be left on this side.”

            As expected, the hobbits welcomed the news Figwit provided them with hurrays and a sudden boost of good humour. Soon they were singing like they hadn’t since the bitter cold began.

            “This sounds great! Will we be able to hunt some fresh meat for a change?”

            “Drogo, if you don’t quit thinking of food all the time, you will end up fat as a dairy cow!”

            “Hey, Primula, I’m a respectable Baggins, you don’t suppose a true Baggins should be scraggy, do you?”

            “I don’t, but your poor pony is almost begging for retirement.”

            “And you are more worried about the pony’s well being than about mine?”

            “Getting fat as a dairy cow isn’t well being, is it?”

            “Stop, you both, you are bickering like and old married couple!”

            “I dare you repeat this statement, Saradoc Brandybuck!”

            “Else what, dear Aunty?”

            “Else…” She twisted a lock of her rich dark hair around a finger and turned back to her cousin. “Hey, Beryl, what do you think about getting him into the same bet Ferum lost? We can give him the same punishment!”

            Drogo intervened.

            “Being your nephew must be punishment enough!”

            “Don’t you meddle with how I deal with an insolent kinsman, else I’ll make _you_ lose a bet with me and Beryl!”

            Said Beryl laughed from behind in the row, steadying her footsteps with her walking staff.

            “No way, none of our dresses would fit your Baggins sweetie!”

            “He is _not_ my sweetie! Ouch, Beryl, I’ll account this as high treason!”

            “Hey, Ferumbras, why don’t you tell me what that bet was, just in case?” Drogo asked, in hope. “It can save us from the same treatment they are lavishing you.”

            “ _Never_!”

            The angry tone of the victim of the girls’ prank was priceless.

            Culuin ignored the hobbits and stopped, holding his horse’s bridle, waiting for all the company to pass the cleft they were heading through. If was large enough for a cart, but not much more. His piercing green eyes scouted the wide patch of cold land behind them, in search of any movement, and then he turned again after the last hobbit was on the east side of the mountain range. They had done it, the Coldfells where behind them.

            “Hey, _Silverware_ , hurry down, we don’t want to spend the night so close to the pass!”

            “I’d show you where to find _Silverware_ if we weren’t in the presence of ladies!”

            The silver-haired elf protested back to teasing Elladan, and also silver-haired Aredhel helped him, to the others’ amusement.

            “Culuin, I immobilize him and you hit? Or the opposite?”

            “We can take turns, darling!”

            “We can beat him in twos until it turns to an odd number.”

            Looking behind to see the two bantering, Bilbo noticed the top of the mountains were white on the east side, even if there was no snow to be seen on the west side. He deemed it as a side effect of Elrond’s weather device and forgot it for the time being.

            Not long after, they reached the wellspring of Rhimdat river, which they would follow for the next days until they reached the Langflood, that would be called Anduin after it was met by the Gladden River. A couple of miles later Elladan called for a halt and they prepared to camp for the night while Culuin, Figwit and Estel scouted the surroundings for their safeness and fresh meat; pheasant would have to do that evening, for it was what their arrows found, plus some dried fruit from their provisions.

            Culuin was uneasy since they set camp, and was almost forgetting to eat while he was eating. Elrohir noticed it and called him to watch together, giving him the chance to ask what was the matter without worrying the others.

            “The wind is too still for my liking. Of course it should not be like in the west ridge, but this stillness is… unnerving. Estel feels it too, he just is not so aware, but he is used to this ranges as I am. The horses are uneasy. There is something wrong ongoing, Elrohir, I just can’t figure out what.”

            Elrohir looked at the surroundings, thoughtful, and then up at the waning moon.

            “Can it be just the solstice coming?  We are close to Midsummer, some people are more sensitive to it, though I wouldn’t think Estel to be one.”

            “And I’ve never been one of them, too. It is something else, something I can feel in the earth…”

            “Come on, you’re almost talking like my grandma.”

            Elrohir teased Culuin, trying to ease the tension.

            “I have been leading scouting parties along this land for a long time, and never felt this stillness in the air. It is… unsettling.”

            “I trust your knowledge of the land, my friend. I’ll talk to my brother, we break camp at first light, three of us in the watch each turn, just two turns and we’re done.”

            “We should warn the halflings.”

            “That lot will give us trouble if aware of a problem that may not even happen.’

            “Then at least make things be packed before they go sleep. It can be excused as haste to part in the morning.”

            “This will do. I’ll talk to them and share first watch with you; I’ll see who else will be with us.”

            Elrond’s son had not taken a dozen steps back to the camp when he heard a rumble followed by a swift wind from the mountain top. He looked back and up and his eyes grew wide as he shout in terror.

            “Elbereth Gilthoniel!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because dusting a library can lead to interesting findings


	13. In the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Knee…”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “This is not Anghertas.”
> 
> The older brother glanced at the book cover and perceived its rounded letters.
> 
> “Must be Tengwar. Elvish stuff.”
> 
> The younger one shook his head.
> 
> “No, it is not. These are letters from Mother’s world, Knee!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helo, my beloved half a dozen readers, I thank you for your conitnued support and kudos! I promisse every kudo you leave results in a prank by Knee and Frérin or in some trouble with the ravens!  
> Also, I'd like to her from you, opinions, sugestions, questions... I use to answer every comment.

            The task of dusting the library was long, boring and utterly dusty. Each shelf had to be emptied and cleansed, and then each tome carefully dusted with a very soft brush before being put back in the shelf; and it could not be done in a hurry, else the dust would fly up into the air and mess everything again. Ori had set them to dust a corner of the place that counted at least three hundred years, and beside the care of putting every tome back into the proper place they had to take extra care because some books were dry and crackling of old age. Frérin was especially annoyed that day, being stuck in the dusty library for every afternoon the last few days.

            “This is not fair! This is not fair and this is not right!”

            He mumbled while carrying a pile of books to the place they dusted them. Knee was brushing a leather covered tome when he simply had to sneeze, sending pounds of dust up in the air and all over him and his brother.

            “I agree.”

            Frérin sat at his side and took his brush to start another tome.

            “I don’t want to hear about council meetings for the next thousand years! No, the next two thousand years!”

            “We will have to attend meetings only when we have beards, Fré.”

            “But this will happen in less than two thousand years, and this is not fair!”

            “I agree.”

            “Hey!” The younger one lifted his head as if it got lighter on behalf of his idea. “And if we don’t grow beards at all? We would be free of the meetings!”

            Knee whacked his brother’s head with more force than needed.

            “Shame on you, brother! What a stupid idea, we not growing beards!”

            “But brother, and if this happens? Mother has no beard, what if we are like her and don’t grow a beard?”

            What begun with an idea of getting rid of council meetings turned into a panic attack.

            “No, it is impossible, we cannot don’t grow beards! We are Durin’s line, we must have beards, we are Longbeards, no matter what Mother is!”

            “But Knee, we have pointed ears like hers!”

            “Not quite!”

            “But almost!”

            “No. It cannot be. We will have beards, Fré, we will!”

            The dwarfling was fiercely hoping it would be so, and had to point it out so angrily to convince himself it was true. He had had enough bullying at school because of his pointed ears, not having a beard was out of question. The simple idea distressed him.

            “Here, lend me a hand, this box is ready to go back to the shelf and I am ready to take a bath to get this dust off me.”

            They both got the box with several dusted books inside and carried it to its stand; then Knee climbed up a ladder and pulled the rope Frérin attached to the handles of the box to lift it to the level of the shelf the books belonged. It was the last shelf they would finish that day, as it was almost time Ori to lock the library and for them to go home, thanks Mahal.

            Having his mind in the beard issue didn’t help Knee to focus on what he was doing, else he would notice the ladder wasn’t hooked in the rim of the stand as it should; being annoyed by the boring and dusty task didn’t help either; and the thought that in few weeks his mother’s family would be there visiting was unsettling. What if she chose to go back to her other world with them and leave them alone? She told so many tales from when she lived there, surely she missed it. But no, she was obviously bonded to his father, he had heard more than one person mention them as ‘perpetual newly-weds’.

            But that didn’t keep her from visiting Imladris when he and Frérin were younger, though. He remembered a bit of then, but most of all he remembered that he missed his father. When he came to escort them back home he felt himself the most beloved dwarf in Middle-Earth. Of course Mother was good, and Uncles Balin and Dwalin where there too, but Father was the best. He bore a short beard for a long time when he paid his promise to Mahal to go in the Journey to retake Erebor, he would not care if his son grew no beard. Not that it would happen, of course.

            “Knee, let the box down, so I can put the other clean books into it!”

            His brother looked small on the floor, and Knee lowered the box carefully, not wanting it to simply get dropped on Frérin’s head. He was already trouble enough without having his head knocked. It was then that the ladder unhooked itself at a bad angled move and started to slip sideways; Knee saw the disaster coming.

            “Fré, run!”

            The youngster perceived what was happening in no moment at all and what his brother thought.

            “No way!”

            Frérin shouted back, throwing himself against the falling ladder, trying to slow down its inevitable fall. Knee took the chance the slowed ladder gave him and gripped a shelf border, letting the ladder fall with a bang, whilst Frérin stepped away. Now it was only a matter of climbing the stand down, and the distance between shelves would not make it difficult. He started the slow descend, hoping his hands and feet would not slip on the dusty shelves.

            Seemingly, that day the Valar intended to amuse themselves watching Knee’s misadventures, and one foot stepped on a book that was lying down on a shelf border instead of stepping on the shelf itself; fortunately for him, Knee was only ten feet from the floor already and, unfortunately for his brother, Frérin was right in his landing area.

            “Ouch!”

            Frérin was barely able to groan when Knee fell sprawled over him, and only whimpered when the Mordor-damned book fell on his head.

            “This is not fair!”

            “And this is not right!”

            Knee made his best to get off his brother and laid himself on the floor, feeling miserable. Frérin sat up, dropping the book off his chest to his lap. Something startled him when he looked at the leather bounded tome. The letters were not right.

            “Knee…”

            “What?”

            “This is not Anghertas.”

            The older brother glanced at the book cover and perceived its rounded letters.

            “Must be Tengwar. Elvish stuff.”

            The younger one shook his head.

            “No, it is not. These are letters from Mother’s world, Knee!”

            The older one sat up, startled too.

            “Let me see!”

            He took the book warily, as if touching something with letters from another world would make him vulnerable to that world. The dust was all over the book front cover, as it was laid down instead of upright, and Knee stood up and run to the place they had their brushes to dust it properly. He looked down and regretted not paying much attention to his mother’s lessons on that cursive writing style.

            “Bert… Bertias… Bertiasij. The name of this book is Bertiasij.”

            “And what is inside it? I didn’t know there were books from Mother’s world in this library.”

            Knee opened the book randomly, and found a drawing of a strange water beast, several long tentacles sprawling along the page, and a description of it, which the lad made his best to read to his brother, stumbling on some letters. At least the words inside were written in another kind of letter, that had every letter separated, unlike the letters  on the cover, and he was more used to read that ones.

            “Kraken. Mollusc. Environment: water. Salt and fresh water species. Size: According to water area available, reaching from two inches to half a mile. Life expectancy: Unknown. Eating habits: fish, birds, molluscs, small and large mammals in general, any animal available. Reproductive habits: Unknown. Social organization: Unknown; never seen in groups.”

            The brothers exchanged confused glances, and Knee flipped to another random page.

            “Crebain. Bird. Environment: Reported on western side of the Hithaeglir – that are the Misty Mountains , Fré – through Enedwaith, Dunland and Eregion. Size: Above average for a raven, to which they resemble in appearance yet not in honor. Life expectancy: Up to forty years. Eating habits: the same of a regular crow, favouring meat and carrion. Reproductive habits: they begin to court at a very young age but don’t bond for yet five to seven years; nest together for life. Display aerial acrobatics and food providing at courting. Both parents hatch the eggs, three to six per year, and take turns feeding the chicks. Social organization…”

            “Knee, this book is an animal handbook! Can we take it home to read it all?”

            The older brother looked from the book to his excited brother and back.

            “Why not? Mister Ori has lent us books before, we just have to write it down in his control notebook, I deem.”

            “Aye!”

            “But you will have to exert yourself to try to read Mother’s letters, right? I won’t be reading things for you for the rest of our lives.”

            “No problem, Knee. This Bertiasij seems interesting enough to make me want to read it.”

            “Let us write the borrowing down in Ori’s control.”

            They run to the desk closer to the door of the library and Knee took a quill to write in his neat handwriting.

            ‘Thorin and Frérin – one book.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because some hobbits are sooo unlucky


	14. Taltalossë

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes. We must send message to your father, as soon as possible, after we verify if anything is broken, tomorrow.”  
>  “What in Elbereth’s name is that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my beloves couple of readers, sorry for the late update but I won't update if there is not even two hits to the story. So, here it goes!  
> I wish you a merry Christmas and a merry DoS if you haven't had it already!  
> Namarië!

            The avalanche took them by surprise, but fortunately they were all awake, which would not be true just a couple of hours later. The horses and ponies had been restless and broke free at the first sound of snow and stones coming down, their elven ropes willing to unknot themselves at the first sign of danger to the animals. There was no time to waste, and the travelers grabbed whatever was at hand or nothing at all and run for their lives. The elves and Estel prompted the hobbits to the right of the slide, as that way the ground would get even sooner than on the other side, allowing them to run faster and steadily.

            It was hard not to stumble in the dark, running wild at the thunderous noise behind them in almost complete darkness; Beryl almost fell when her foot got tangled in a fallen branch, but Figwit grabbed her by the waist and run with her under his arm in a swift movement. The worst of the avalanche was more northwards, closer to the pass, but their camp was a complete havoc, and they ran with what lungs they had. By now Merimac had been hauled over Elladan’s shoulder and Nellas was dragging Saradoc and Ferdinand by their wrists.

            The hobbits heard the elves shout amongst themselves in their own language, and made their best to run out of the wreckage path with what strength they had. Bilbo ran as if a dragon were at his heels, and he knew exactly what it was like; Dudo was being prompted forward by Estel, and Aredhel prevented Paladin from rolling down the hill with the shaft of her spear.

            The snow took its time to settle down along the earth and rocks, and the travellers had their own hearts pumping in their ears when the sound of the rumbling faded; by then, they were in the skirts of a pine grove, several yards lower and southwards from their unchancy camp, in the dark of an almost waned moon. They had not even settled their breaths when Drogo’s distressed voice was heard.

            “Where is Primula? Primula!”

            Ferumbras was also not to be seen, and they began to search for the missing, walking warily back their own tracks, aware of a possible after-slide. It took them not long to see half a walking staff looking oddly out of the snow, and Drogo ran to it and began to dig with his bare hands, shouting her name.

            “Primula! Primula!”

            Soon his brother Dudo and her nephews Saradoc and Merimac joined Drogo, and Elrohir directed the others to grant them room and search for the other missing one. It was a delicate job, as they could trample Ferumbras without even knowing it under the layers of snow and stone drift.

            Several yards away a hairy toe showing above the snowy ground was enough for Aredhel to start digging, a quick gesture of her arm measuring where his head should be and starting from that location. The snow was severely mixed with rocks as little as closed fists and some as big as dog, and they prayed none on the later had got their little companion.

            Seemingly, none of the biggest stones had, but Ferumbras’ skin was grey and cold, his lips blue, and, worse than that, he wasn’t breathing. As soon as his face was freed from the snow Elladan felt for his pulse in the hobbit’s neck, and shook his head approvingly, but the halfling would need help to breath. In their practical way and abetment, Aredhel quickly dragged the little one out of the snow and into her lap, both for a better positioning to breath as for warmth, and Nellas closed his nose with a hand whilst covering his mouth with hers, and breathed in hard. Aredhel had leaned Ferumbras’ head back, so his air passages would be free, and Nellas repeatedly forced her own air into the hobbit’s lungs.

            After a short while Ferumbras coughed and sputtered, and then he was breathing on his own, groggy. Aredhel carried him to the pine grove, to be away from the snow, so the little fellow could be warmed more easily, and she and Nellas opened their cloaks and embraced with him sandwiched in between, while the others worked to build a fire. Primula was in better condition, being very cold but otherwise undamaged. Seeing what the elves had done to Ferumbras, Drogo wrapped the girl inside his coat and would not let her go for any sake.

            “Are you fine? Tell me you will be fine!”

            He ran his fingers through her hair, pressing his cheek to her face, trying to lend her every bit of heat he could. Following Estel’s instructions, Beryl rubbed her hands along Primula’s legs and massaged her cousins’ feet to make the blood run, else she could lose a toe or even a foot. Both the ranger and the male elves knew better than to be improper and touch the lass in so a close way, though they would do it if there was no other female amongst them.

            “Thanks Yavanna you’re not scraggy!”

            Primula muttered under her closed eyelashes, shaking violently, worming her hands under Drogo’s armpits to get her fingers warmer.

            “Hush, hush, I’ve got you, you will be warm, it will be all right, just tell me you are fine, would you?”

            Figwit and Culuin had got a fire going, and came to move the chilled travellers close to it. The elven women walked as one with their protected one in their midst, the hobbit prattling incoherently. Primula’s nephews helped Drogo to carry her close to the fire, but the mop-haired halfling refused to let her go from his arms.

            “No, she is warm here, don’t move her away, she has not to get chilled again!”

            Beryl shot him a knowing glance.

            “I don’t believe you would let her get chilled even if you had to burn a forest to accomplish warming her!”

            Drogo was upset.

            “Wouldn’t you? Is it so that you care for your cousin, the one you call your best friend?”

            “Hush, Drogo, don’t make it an issue, I’m just stating that I’m not blind to how you look at her.”

            “And how do I look at her, pray?”

            He tightened his grip on the sleepy hobbit-lass, bringing her closer to his chest, as if it were possible, while rubbing gentle circles on her back through his own coat. Despite all the scare of the situation, Beryl managed to keep her voice even and calm as she answered, matter-of-factly.

            “Like she belongs to you.”

            Drogo’s look was telling that he didn’t yet figure out that it was true and needed someone to speak it out in Westron for him to understand. Of course they were friends for decades already, but only after they began to travel together he noticed how well humoured, light hearted, kind, intelligent, funny, interesting, quick witted and, the Valar help him, beautiful, Primula was. Her bright blue eyes that twinkled when she smiled, that pretty smile that left her with dimples on her cheeks, her cascading curls and delicate hair fringe on her forehead, why did it take him a freak journey to the confines of the world and almost losing her to the avalanche for him to understand what was happening inside his own heart? He moved a strand of hair away from her face, trying to conceal the turmoil in his mind. Drogo whispered to Beryl, hoping the tiny lass in his arms was as asleep as she seemed to be.

            “I know she doesn’t. But I wish she did.”

            Beryl let an accomplice smile brighten her face as she confided him with a wink.

            “Quit biting your fingernails, she loathes it.”

            “Why are you telling me this?”

            She smirked.

            “It is time for you both to settle down. Why can’t I help a pair of oblivious friends to do so?”

            His line of tough, completely confused by now, was interrupted by shouts in elvish.

            “Oh, no! Not again!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            After the snow-buried hobbits had been rescued, the ones who were not taking care of them began to carefully scan the snow-covered landscape from its borders. No way they would walk on the unreliable snow before they had some more light, even being a bunch of elves and a ranger from the north, albeit Bilbo knew Estel was more that that, or, that a ranger of the north was not an ordinary human. The horses were gone for good, seemingly, and only in the morning they would be able to try to track any sign of them. Some of the elves began to climb up the slope to take a better look at the top of the mountain range, as Elladan was puzzled as to why the avalanche happened at all, and talked quietly on elvish with the one more acquainted to the region.

            “Culuin, when was the last maintenance?”

            “Three months ago, as scheduled. There was no sign of deterioration, and the mobile parts were greased, as usual.”

            “I hope the weather device keeps working after this; the trepidation of the avalanche could damage it, you know.”

            “Yes. We must send message to your father, as soon as possible, after we verify if anything is broken, tomorrow.”

            “What in Elbereth’s name is that?”

            The dark haired elf noticed a darker spot on the hill slope, just some yards from the top, facing north-eastwards, and whispered to his companion.

            “It is too dark to be just the broken stone, I deem; it looks more like the entrance of a tunnel.”

            Culuin agreed with a nod, and whispered back.

            “We must move the company away from here, now; any delay can be dangerous.”

            They begun to move back down the slope, signalling the others in sight to do the same, in silence. Culuin looked back once more, the feeling of uneasiness not over, and he shouted in alarm to the other elves for what he saw.

            “There’s light inside! Torches! Move, we must go, now!”

            “Move! Move! Take the halflings, move!”

            “Elladan, what is it?” Estel asked his stepbrother in the distance, unable to see what the others saw.

            “Goblins!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talta- :slide down + lossë : snow = Taltalossë: snow slide down, avalanche
> 
> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because it's good to be back


	15. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can see Ellen playing to dress up dolls with you two once again!”  
>  “Yes, and we are the dolls, as usual!”

           By the time the Mekhem Lamâb was expected to open there was always some member of the Company or someone closely related near Mirror Lake . So it was that when the silent waters were disturbed by some no fishes at all, as Bombur mentioned them, it was himself and his brother who were on watch, and who greeted Wolfram son of Nyda like twenty-eight years before. The time mismatch between Earth and Middle-Earth was such that their guests had gone through only four years since they jumped into the silver shining waters to head back to their human world, leaving behind a bunch of saddened dwarves, a hobbit full of hope in the future, a kinswoman (or a kinself?) who gave up her own world on behalf of love, and the loving memory of the deceased nephew and uncle who were respectively little brother to a hobbit girl and fiancé to a young dwarf lady.

            Bofur opened his arms in greeting while the otherworldly family splashed out of the lake.

            “Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends! We're so glad you could attend! Come inside! Come inside!” (1)

            Iris shook her head to the known melody that didn’t fit in that world.

            “Bofur! Where in goodness name did you hear Emerson, Lake and Palmer?”

            They hugged, the dwarf completely indifferent to the girl’s wet clothes, both of them laughing uncontrollably, the water of her hair mingling with the tears of both of them.

            “Your aunty doesn’t chirp like you but she remembers one or two tunes from your world, lass!”

            Bombur embraced both Lily and Wolfram at once like they were the best chunk of meat in the butchery.

            “Lady Lily! You came back! You’re really back!” The fat dwarf looked up to the slender wizard. “Thank you for bringing them back, Master Wolfram! We missed them dearly, you don’t know how precious your daughters are to us!”

            Lily wasn’t able to say a word, chocking with her own tears and Bombur’s arms around her neck. Wolfram whipped the water from his face with one hand while embracing the red haired dwarf with the other.

            “I’m glad to be back, Bombur, even if my last stay was so short. It will not be like that this time, even if it may not be quite long.”

            Bofur was the first to get his feet back on the ground.

            “Dear guests, Ellen promised to skin us alive if we leave you three shiver in the cold of your wet clothes; though your clothes are actually a little disconcerting, but we got used to you lot being disconcerting to us dwarves along the journey.”

            The girls looked down to see what had become of their neoprene outfit after passing the fast-changing gate of Erebor, only to realize it would be unfit for Erebor or any place in Middle-Earth regardless of the material it was made. It changed to, supposedly, a kind of leather, but it kept its hydrodynamic design, clinging to their bodies like a second skin. Wolfram was more practical.

            “Bofur, my friend, is there anywhere we can change? I asked so much from my sister…”

            “Ha! Of course there is! We just could not make thing easy for this two ladies, do you know many times they screwed up the Company?”

            Said ladies looked at each other, laughing, happy, while following the brothers who had taken charge of their backpacks. The three newcomers were a little groggy from the transition, but this time at least they knew what to expect, unlike first time Wolfram came, being pushed into a lake in a volcanic Indonesian island by his NerdNet guide.

            They were headed to an old storage room that was not in use by then, as in that level of Erebor there were no dwellings, and provided with towels and clothes, so they would not have to unpack before reaching Kili’s house. It was strange for the girls to think about the royal dwelling as Kili’s, as when they were there last time it was Thorin’s, and simply the headquarters. But Thorin was dead, and life goes on, Lily thought, sad, whilst tying Iris’ laces at the back of her bodice. The hobbit’s dress was of a creamy hue, embroidered at the hems in earthy red and golden seams, and the bodice was it opposite, dark red with creamy embroideries.

            “Perfect, shorty! Now help me with mine.”

            “Hey, it is not because I’ve shrunk to hobbit size that you’re allowed to bully me, beardy!”

            They laughed and chatted lightly while Iris helped her sister with her dress and boots. The design of the dresses was similar, only in Lily’s prevailing light gray instead of cream and dark blue with silver seams instead of red and gold. Her suede boots were of a caramel shade, almost golden, and fit up to just under her knees. Wolfram chuckled.

            “I can see Ellen playing to dress up dolls with you two once again!”

            “Yes, and we are the dolls, as usual!”

            The man looked down at his loose fitting dark green tunic belted over simple trousers and dark brown leather boots. The long sleeved tunic bore a leafy design in dark brown, intertwined with coppery seams.

            “Yep, it seems I’ve been given the status of living doll, too!”

            They threw their wet clothes in a sac and went out of the room to be guided upstairs by the Ur brothers. They had already flickered news through the mirror devices that by now covered most of the realm, which was a fast means of communication but had an inconvenient lack of privacy. Even if they had their own codes and important messages were encrypted, flashes of light coming form the level of Mirror Lake could only mean the long expected visitors had arrived.

            Each level they reached found more and more people waiting to see them, curious, joyfully cheering them as they passed. Two levels above Mirror Lake some members of the guard took the backpacks from Bofur and Bombur and hurried before them to deliver the luggage in the royal dwellings. Next level gathered several miners, and the next one was crowded with smiths. When they reached the levels that bore most of the dwellings the crowd was plenty of dwarwdams and dwarflings, and the sisters could only realize that despite having spent several months in the company of dwarves, they had never seen a dwarf child or woman before, besides Lily herself. The haunted empty place they helped to reclaim was now a living realm, with working people, growing families, life.

            Wolfram was abashed with all that attention, which he deemed undue, and was almost knocked off his boots when a dwarfling run to his eldest daughter and boldly shove the delicate figure of a lily in her hands, shying away in no moment at all, leaving her with glistening eyes set on the white chalcedony carving.

            “Bofur, what is all this? What is happening here?”

            The dwarf laughed under his hat.

            “You don’t understand, do you? To these people, your daughters are not ordinary people, they are heroines. They are the ones they tell tales and sing songs about, when they speak about the ones who granted the end of their exile. To you she is little Iris, but to them she is Iris the Halfling, the Goblin King’s Bane; to you she is just sweet Lily, but to them she is Lily the Bride, the Dragon Blinder, who cured Thorin Oakenshield’s gold-sickness. You’d better learn these nicknames, you will have to use them soon. Even you...”

            “I’ve done nothing! My sister knocked me out before the Battle , there’s nothing to say about me!”

            Bombur chuckled, shaking his head at the man’s panicked stare.

            “Didn’t you? You are Wolfram the Green, the mysterious wizard who knows the Gates to the world of heroes!”

            “What? All right, I understand they may have a fancy on the girls being their heroines, but from that to imagining we come from a world of heroes? This is delirious!”

            Bofur was completely amused by Wolfram’s reactions.

            “Maybe. But this is all they know about your world, Wolfram, they don’t know anyone from there that is not a hero. They know your family, and you know what they have done, and they have had news of the three ones that came to help us against the spiders in Mirkwood, and you know whom I mean, from what Ellen told us I’d have no other rating to them than heroes. So, by pure statistics, to this people, hundred percent of the people who came from your world are heroes, so, you are the one who knows the Gates to the world of the heroes. It is pure logic!”

            “You must be spending too much time with my sister, if your manner of speaking is to reveal anything at all.”

            The dwarf laughed.

            “We work a lot together, I must agree!”

            The place was becoming familiar to the sisters, even if cleared out of the rubbish it had on when they first came, the lay of the paths and the colour of the stones calling them to walk faster. Opposite to where they had come they could see the light of the sun filtered through the wide windows above the main Gate, and that the ugly hole Smaug had broken into the stone wall to make his way in and out had been mended in the most meaningful way. Instead of simply closing the gap in stone to mend the damage and make Smaug infamy to be forgotten, it was made into a huge stained glass art work, showing a fallen dragon pierced by arrow, axe and two swords of different sizes. Around the felled beast four figures stood, one hand stretched out in a warning gesture, and by the proportional size and bearing of each figure it could be told they represented a dwarf, a man, an elf and a halfling. One not acquainted to the story could imagine the arrow stood for the elf race instead of the men of Long Lake, but in the long run it didn’t matter as long is it was clear that all four races worked together to get rid of the dragon. Hemming the design were eighteen triangles, one for each one of the members of the Company plus Gandalf, coloured as to indicate their families.

            “Durin… this is beautiful!”

            Lily felt a knot in her throat whilst gazing at the stained glass. Her memory still held the horrible hole, the stench of the dragon, the dust covering everything, the emptiness of the abandoned place. Too much changed in the four years she had been absent, but she was happy to see the change. It was what Thorin had died for. Her heart was still broken, and she knew it would mend never more, not in this life, but to see Erebor restored to its glory, to see the faces of the people of Durin happy in their rightful home, it gave her a peace she had not known before.

            When she came back to her feet, they were in front of the statues of Mahal and Durin that watched over the house’s restored doors. Wolfram had been warned by Bofur of some formalities expected and didn’t run into the arms of his sister when the doors opened to reveal Ellen and Kili, hand in hand. The wards at the door crossed their axes in front of the outsiders and one of them shouted.

            “Who comes to the house of Kili Elvenblood, son of Dís, Daughter of Thrain, King Under the Mountain?”

            Wolfram took in a deep breath and played his part.

            “I am Wolfram, son of Nyda, and I bring my daughters Lily the Dragon Blinder and Iris the Goblin King’s Bane. I come in peace of friendship and family.”

            The other ward shouted to the people around as they uncrossed the axes, vouching them passage. Each of his greetings was answered by the cheerful crowd.

            “Hail to Wolfram the Green! Hail to Lily the Bride! Hail to Iris the Halfling!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1 – From Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s song “Karn Evil 9” )  
> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because some hobbits are REALLY unlucky


	16. Rhimdat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing?”  
>  “Doing something instead of chatting!”

            The halflings didn’t have to know elvish to know something was wrong the moment they saw their escort running wild downhill and shouting at them to do the same. Drogo stood up with sleepy Primula in his arms, unsure if he would be able to run with her, but doubtless he would try. His confusion as to what to do was solved when Estel grabbed the girl and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, as it was much easier for him to carry the tiny hobbit-lass that way. Not that Drogo was willing to leave her side for any gold in Middle-Earth, but he understood their need for speed.

            Nellas had got half-conscious Ferumbras in a similar way, freeing Aredhel to use her spear at will. The remaining hobbits ran as they could, but Bilbo had his Sting unsheathed, just in case; not that he was much of a swordshobbit, but it was better than nothing. It shone dimly blue, to his distress.

            “Make through the trees, it may baffle them!”

            “Run, run! Some of them have bows!”

            And run they did, taking advantage of the forest and that it seemed to be a small group of digging goblins accompanied by some watchers, not a real hunting party or even scouts. Whilst the elves maintained the weather device to chill the Coldfells and keep it a troll-free zone, the goblins wormed their way under the mountain range to win the Pass, with the purpose of waylaying unsuspecting travelers as they used to do in the pass that led to the Old Ford, the one in which they trapped the Company of Thorin Oakenshield years before. Working solely underground, they managed to get unnoticed until that night, when they broke the stone wall that led to the outside, causing the avalanche.

            So it was that to meet a travelling party was a surprise to the goblins as much as it was to Bilbo’s companions, luckily, but their hate for elves was to be accounted for. When they saw that there were _accursed_ halflings too, it was a matter of pride to fight the race of the one who killed one of their mightiest kings. Luckily again, they didn’t know the fiancé of said king-killer was amongst the fleeing travellers, else their efforts to reach and kill them would be tenfold.

            The faster goblins had been close enough to fight at close range, and Elladan and Elrohir’s swords were of good use, as was Aredhel’s spear; Figwit and Culuin made their bows sing, giving the further goblins a taste of elvish arrow; and the hobbits ran the best they could. Soon, the mess was over, no living goblin to be seen, but the travellers ran some more until they had put a good distance between them and the avalanche.

            When they finally stopped, warned by Bilbo’s sword that there was no living goblin nearby, the waning moon had already set, and they could count only on the light of the stars of Elbereth to guide their steps and see how all of them fared. The hobbits were panting hard, some of them grabbing at their sides, not used to such amount of effort in so little time. Estel put Primula down beside an overanxious Drogo and sat down, recovering his breath. Aredhel reached for Nellas to help her to lower Ferumbras and gave a startled cry.

            “The halfling was hit!”

            She took the unconscious hobbit from Nellas’ shoulder, carefully so not to move him too much. A black feathered arrow stuck from his right shoulder, and she shivered at the thought that if it weren’t for this little involuntary shield, it would have pierced Nellas towards her heart. She broke the shaft midways so it would not dangle and injure him more inside.

            “We need to get it out and cleanse the wound at once, it might be poisoned.”

            “The medicines where in my pack, we have nothing to tend him.” Elrohir frowned, worried. “Culuin, you’ve been scouting these slopes lately, how long to Rhimdat river?”

            The silver haired dwarf made himself concentrate on the surroundings, a bare hand on the ground, reckoning the lay of the land, the dampness of the soil, the feel of the air.

            “Two miles as the eagle flies, north-eastwards. It would lead us back closer to the goblins, though.”

            “Dawn is coming, they will not bother us until dusk, it might be worth the try.”

            “What is happening to my cousin? Why don’t you extract the arrow away and be done with it?”

            Bilbo could not be more anguished to see his kin injured; the hypothermia was bad enough, but arrows frightened him to the core since Fíli’s death. Elladan tried to explain, even if it would not calm the hobbit at all.

            “Because we would not be able to bandage it at once, and the place it is stuck will bleed him to death. We must remove the arrow and cauterize in the same move.”

            “But if it is poisoned, the longer it is stuck the more the poison will harm him! We must pull the arrow out!”

            “Bilbo, calm down; you cannot simply pluck an arrow, the point can get loose inside the wound and make it much more difficult to retrieve it; we are making a choice between possible poisoning and sure hemorrhaging. We will do our best to save your kin.”

            What they didn’t see while discussing what to do was Aredhel carrying Ferumbras in her arms like a ragdoll, heading the direction Culuin said the river would be closer, and Nellas running in the same direction with some yards of advantage over her companion already. Elladan cried their way, startled.

            “What are you doing?”

            “ _Doing_ something instead of _chatting_!”

            He shook his head. Not even his father was able to control or predict Aredhel’s actions, it was not for him to try it. He turned to the remaining company instead, heaving a sigh.

            “Estel, look for the herbs you know, you can find them easier than us; Culuin, Figwit, brother, we escort the halflings. Bilbo, please help us with your kin, we must be on the move.”

            All of them made as he bode, and Bilbo helped Drogo to make Primula stand. She still felt dizzy, but able to walk, and they would not all be running right now, just the ones who where tending to Ferumbras. Those two miles would be longest of his whole life.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            When they reached the river bank a small fire was already set, and some of the smallest of Nellas’ daggers where on a stone close to it to heat. Ferumbras had been laid on his side and breathed in grasps, already sweating cold. There was no more doubt the arrow was poisoned. Elrohir started to distribute instructions, he and his brother working as one in the leadership, the hobbits still stunned by the fact that there had actually happened an accident and then an attack to their party.

            “Figwit, help with the fire, take the halflings who are able to get more wood with you, but don’t let any of them wander alone; Drogo, bring Miss Primula closer to the fire, you both don’t have to look at Ferumbras while we tend his wound, but she must be kept warm; Culuin, fetch… oh, thank you for the water, I was going to ask you to fetch it for us; where is Estel?”

            “Coming!”

            The man reached the makeshift camp in few large strides with a handful of small leaved undergrowth, already washed in the nearby stream. He was crushing it in his hands, and a fresh and soothing scent spread around them.

            ‘ _Most healing plants have to be boiled or at least stepped to work; just a tuna can would be enough to boil the water, but we have nothing_ ’, thought Bilbo, remembering when Lily and Óin worked on the Company’s injuries after the meeting with Azog. He could not remember being so frightened in his life as that day, seeing Thorin be shaken in Azog’s warg mouth like a disgusting bone, and then the other orc aiming Thorin’s throat with his jagged sword, and then the eagle flight, and then Thorin scowling him so harshly on top the eagles’ nests just to welcome him so warmly as a member of the Company, at last…

            “Any sign of the horses or of any pack?”

            Bilbo heard Elladan ask the group in general, hearing without processing it, his mind still on that day so many years before. He never thought about dealing with healing, and his mind just stored bits of data on it.

            “I’ll make the possible with cold _athelas_ if it has to be, _otorno_ (1), but he will need more than this, anyway.”

            Elladan nodded, and beckoned Aredhel and Nellas to help him with the hobbit they had lain atop of one of their cloaks and covered with the other, spread on the ground close to the fire. Now they removed his coat, waistcoat and shirt, moving him the least possible, and for once they were glad Ferumbras was still drowsy from the hypothermia.

            Then Estel and Aredhel held him to the ground while Elladan picked one of Nellas’ sterilized daggers to help him take the arrow off; she held a piece of cloth she ripped off her sleeve to cleanse the blood that gushed from the wound, ignoring the hobbit’s cries as Elladan applied the brazen points of the remaining daggers to cauterize the wound and stop the bleeding as much as possible. Bilbo braced himself not to swoon, helping to keep his cousin immobilized, nauseated by the smell of burnt flesh.

            The elf changed places with Estel, who now applied a salve of smashed leaves directly on the wound, humming something under his breath, eyes almost closed. The fresh scent and the cool paste on the burned skin seemed to calm Ferumbras down, and he was breathing visibly more relaxed. The man had begun to bandage the wound with more pieces of Nellas’ sleeve when Bilbo questioned him.

            “Should it not be stitched? I know we lost our packages, but it will have to be done, won’t it?”

            Estel sent him an appreciative glance, pondering the meaning of Bilbo’s question. It could be simple curiosity, concern for his cousin’s welfare, or doubt on his healing skills. The hobbit’s frowned brows and pleading eyes made it clear it was more out of concern that anything else.

            “Arrow wounds are prone to fester, even when they’re not poisoned as this one was. We cauterized to stop the bleeding, but it must heal from inside out with every chance to get the medicines in and infection and poison out.”

            Bilbo shook his head. If someone who learned his healing arts from Elrond said it should be so, so it should be, then. Estel took some of the crushed leaves and made Primula smell them, to what she stirred and opened her eyes a slit, mumbling drowsily.

            “Is it breakfast time?”

            Drogo smiled warmly, glad to hear something coherent coming from her lips, and snuggled her closely; at least she had slept during Ferumbras’ ordeal.

            “Not yet, flower of my heart, not yet.”

            “Since when do you call me _flower of your heart_?”

            Her voice was a mixture of curiosity, confusion and sleepiness.

            “Since now. And I expect you to like it.”

            Primula closed her eyes again, unable to keep awake, and muttered while going into dreams realm again.

            “Hmm. Sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1 - Otorno = sworn brother)


	17. Men-i-Naugrim (The Old Forest Road)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would not miss Little Bunny and Not a Puppy’s wedding for all honey in this world, now that I know what that parchment was about.

            The hobbits slept what they could while their escort watched in the dark, until the sky got clear enough for them to walk without much risk of stumbling. Half the elves made an attempt to find their packs, with little success, but enough for them to have a meager breakfast and keep something for less than a week. The horses were nowhere to be seen, but their tracks led southwards. They had some tough decisions to make, so the escort and Bilbo headed a bit away from the sleeping hobbits to hold council.

            “We have done what we could, but Ferumbras must be taken to a house of healing as soon as possible. To go back to Imladris is out of question, it is too far and he would not stand the weather of the Coldfells.”

            “There are Woodmen near the Old Ford, they could help us.”

            “But they have no healing house, they are quite a rude people, and anyway it would be eight days marching from here, at least.”

            “The closest house of healing would be in Thranduil’s halls, then, but it is even further than the Old Ford.”

            “Yes, but there is no choice. We must try for Thranduil.”

            Bilbo counted mentally to ten and spoke, nervous.

            “I don’t know how much you are acquainted to that path, and I myself don’t know how much it had changed in the past years, but it took the Company of Thorin Oakenshield close to a month to reach Thranduil’s halls, and we had food most of the time. How do you suppose we can get there with almost no supplies in time to heal my cousin?”

            The elves exchanged glances, some kind of non verbal communication passing amongst them, until they reached some agreement despite Bilbo’s opinion and Elrohir answered him.

            “We can make it in a fortnight or less, running, carrying the halfling in turns.”

            “We hobbits cannot run blind in the darkness of that blasted forest for two weeks!”

            Aredhel shifted to her usual stern tone as she spoke to him, supported by Nellas.

            “You halflings don’t, but we elves can.”

            “If just two of us carry half of the provisions left and run, we travel light and can make it in time.”

            Bilbo could see the logic in the idea, and figured out the closure of the puzzle.

            “The remainder of the party can hunt and gather while heading south and cross the forest through the Old Forest Road . I had planned to visit Beorn, anyway, only didn’t imagine to do it asking for help again, we may not even have to ask the Woodmen.”

            So it was settled and the few packs they had found were reorganized so one of them had provisions enough for two elves and a sick hobbit to reach Thranduil’s  halls, and the remainder was distributed in the other two backpacks. The only blanket found was given to Ferumbras, both for his warmth as for helping the elves to carry him more comfortably. With the pain of guilt for having exposed his best friends to danger, Bilbo said goodbye to his groggy cousin, hoping against hope it would not be the last time.

            “I hope you don’t mind some bouncing, little friend, for we have need for speed. Hold on!”

            With this Nellas ran after Aredhel, who took the lead in the steady run for the forest, while the remaining of the travelers gathered their strength and started to walk.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            As they headed south the weather got warmer, not only for the longitude but mostly for being further form the mountain range and the weather device. They used the first day to put distance between them and the mountains, to lessen the risk of a goblin attack, as there was no more how to be sure of their tunnel exits, not losing time in trying to hunt for food. What was left would endure two or three days, and to be far from the goblins was more important right then.

            Primula was doing fine after her body warmed, still puzzled by Drogo’s behavior at her, but wondering that it was not unpleasant at all. Beryl and Dudo made sure them both would walk as close as possible, having made some kind of agreement in helping the pair to stop bickering and start courting. Now Beryl had put the gears of her mind to work to have more fun with it.

            “Hey, Bilbo, how is that thing about wagers with the dwarves?”

            “Well, they bet about many things; actually, about anything they set their mind to.”

            “Like what?”

            “Hmm, along our journey they took wagers on whether I would join the Company or not; on how long it would take for me to complain on missed meals; on how many days it would rain once it started; on if Dwalin would beat Ellen or Ellen would beat Dwalin; on how many times Bombur would help himself at Elrond’s feast; on how many times Gandalf would call Thorin stubborn in a certain amount of time; and so there was always a jolly wager around the party whenever you could ask for one.”

            “Would you mind to be the keeper of a wager?” Asked Dudo.

            “Not at all. What do you brats have in mind?”

            “How long will it take for Drogo and Primula stop to be the oblivious idiots they are!”

            Bilbo stopped on his tracks at such idea.

            “In the whole or just one to another?”

            “Oh, just one to another.”

            “Then there is hope. I’ll keep the wagers.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            It took them some days to reach the Carrock, where they set camp for a night, and then the next day found them strolling in a wide pasture of bees as big as moths; a mile more or so and they found the wooden-built house of the skin-changer.

            “So, it seems I have a bunch of beggars at my door again, and none other than my well known bunny here!” Beorn’s laughter boomed as he herded the travelers inside his house. “And where is that _not a puppy_ of yours? These two here look softer than that firehead. Shouldn’t she be with you, Master Bunny?”

            Bilbo smiled wryly at the, literally, bear of a man.

            “I’m on my way to meet her at the Lonely Mountain. Strange, I am sure you have been sent an invitation for our wedding.”

            Beorn scratched his beard with a hand whilst grabbing half a dozen mugs by their handles with the other.

            “Invitation, invitation…” He turned back with more mugs. “Ah, that parchment the bird brought?”

            “Yes, that must be it, a raven from Erebor.”

            “Well, I don’t make much out of scribbles, you see, and the bird didn’t want to wait for a bit of talk. A wedding, did you say?”

            Of course reading was not an universal skill, and it had to be considered that Beorn was a kind of rustic being. Bilbo facepalmed.

            “I’m so sorry, Beorn, Ellen should have sent you a voiced invitation! We are going to marry next September, that’s why I’m traveling there along with my cousins, and these kind elves and man are traveling along to help with our safeness in the wild.”

            Beorn looked at the whole party, evaluating them.

            “Let me guess, you found goblins in the mountains and lost your supplies.”

            “Actually…”

            “And you need help to cross Mirkwood.” A good sized honey mead keg found its way into the dinning room. “And you thought you could find help with this old bear here, right?”

            “Well… yes.”

            An amused Beorn filled the mugs and handled them out to the travelers.

            “Then, I must tell you this time I won’t lent you any horse or pony, nor give you any directions.”

            The hobbits tried and failed to hide their disappointment.

            “My apologies, Mister Beorn, we just thought…”

            “Some days ago a small herd reached my pastures. They were scared and tired, complaining about rolling stones and falling snow. I don’t doubt they traveled with you. Luckily, they didn’t meet the goblins, though.”

            “The horses are safe, thanks Oromë!”

            Elladan was visibly relieved, but Bilbo was distressed.

            “Master Beorn, our friends are experienced travelers, but what does it mean ‘you won’t give us directions’?”

            The skin changer chuckled.

            “Why would I give you directions if I’ll be traveling with you? I would not miss Little Bunny and Not a Puppy’s wedding for all honey in this world, now that I know what that parchment was about.”

            “This would be splendid!”

            “Just give me a couple of days to prepare, I can’t leave in a hurry. We’ll have to bake some bread, too. We will use the Old Forest Road, it has been mended in recent years, after the Necromancer was outcast from Dol Guldur.”

            Speaking of bread, he made for the kitchen, signaling them to help. Soon the table was full of food, which the hobbits wolfed down, and the others ate with joy.

            The twin brothers went out to see to the horses, and were glad to find them well.

            “Nellas and Aredhel would have more use of a horse than us, they need haste.”

            “One of us could ride back to Thranduil’s path leading a spare horse, and find them inside the forest.”

            “That path is hard to ride, it would not gain them time, but at least they would tire less and it would be more comfort to the halfling.”

            “I don’t know if it would be of use. By the time any of us reaches them, they will be at Thranduil’s doors, most probably.”

            “Elbereth help they have no delays.”

 


	18. Erynrâd (The Forest Path)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If… If I’m so bold, could I ask you ladies why? You both are so… so wonderful, none could never ask for someone more deserving thankfulness than you. And I mean it!”  
>  The elves exchanged glances, and seemingly agreed on something, even if it looked like the silver-haired one was a bit more reluctant than the raven-haired one. Aredhel was the one to speak.  
>  “People believe it’s their place to judge love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Phrases within [brackets] mean they’re in Elvish, be it Sindarin or Quenya, though it is more probably in Quenya, as Aredhel is from the First Age. No use in finding the words in a dictionary just to put the translation at the end.

You are the hole in my head  
You are the space in my bed  
You are the silence in between  
What I thought and what I said  
You are the night-time fear  
You are the morning when it's clear  
When it's over your start  
You're my head  
You're my heart

(Florence and the Machine – No light, no light)

 

            The constant bouncing, added to the weakness the blood loss imposed on him, made Ferumbras sleep most of the time. Sometimes he woke up startled, mumbling incoherently, only to be hushed by the elf who was carrying him at that moment. He begun to learn the difference between them from the way each one carried him in the blanket made into a sling; Aredhel tended to hold him under his arms with the left hand and to use her right to hold her spear, that was also used to help her balance sometimes; Nellas would rather use both arms, one under his knees and other under his shoulders, but she tied the blanket more tightly, so she could free both her hands when needed and still have him secure.

            They were already three days long into the forest and five since the snowslide, running, stopping only to eat something and sleep a couple of hours. The hobbit slept most of the time, the uneasy sleep of poison, even if the athelas dressing prevented the worst. They changed it daily, and Aredhel added the bark of a tree she knew to his water bottle, as a painkiller. After this, Ferumbras slept better at night and was a bit more conscious during the day, and it seemed to be improving every day. Nevertheless, they had no illusions that he was going to heal without the proper care they could find only in a House of Healing.

            When the silver haired elf called to stop for the night, Ferumbras was glad to be on the ground, on his own feet, even if he felt so weak and dizzy; it was not on him to be a burden on anyone, and he understood they stopped only to have some rest of his weigh, even if he was not a fat hobbit.

            Aredhel took her food and sat, leaning on a tree trunk to rest her back, as she had been the last to carry the hobbit, and nibbled her bread. He looked at her, feeling it was the first time in days that he was completely lucid, glad to have his mind working a little better, even if his body was a wreck.

            “Milady?’

            She acknowledged him.

            “Yes, Master Halfling?”

            “I want to… thank you, thank you both.” He looked at Nellas, who was nearby sharpening one of her innumerable knives, and she sent him a small smile. “I would be dead by now if it weren’t for you. I’d be dead _twice_.”

            Nellas nodded, agreeing with a smile, but said nothing; Aredhel looked from him to the piece of bread in her hand, and back to him.

            “We appreciate your thankfulness, Master Halfling. It is more than we are used to from most people.”

            “I don’t understand; you fought battles to free this world of the darkness, of course you should be thanked for.”

            Nellas wiped her knife and sheathed it, then reached their bag for the herbs to change Ferumbras’ bandage, and talked to him while tending the wound.

            “We came to escort you and your friends out of our own volition, because it is what we like to do, to help people is our chosen place in the natural order of things; we elves love peace, laughter and merrymaking, but whenever it is needed we are fighters, we fight Morgoth’s darkness in every form, and the unnatural creatures he bred. Usually, people are grateful for the deeds of our people, but it is not quite so for the two of us.”

            He felt uncomfortable, because he had seen how wonderful those two could be, and he had no clue as to why someone would ever think of not being grateful to them for being watchful on the dark things that crept on Middle-Earth the same way one would be grateful to any other elf.

            “If… If I’m so bold, could I ask you ladies _why_? You both are so… so wonderful, none could never ask for someone more deserving thankfulness than you. And I mean it!”

            The elves exchanged glances, and seemingly agreed on something, even if it looked like the silver-haired one was a bit more reluctant than the raven-haired one. Aredhel was the one to speak.

            “People believe it’s their place to judge _love_.”

            Ferumbras felt a good sized stone settle in the bottom of his stomach. He lowered his eyes, disturbed, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, or groggy from the poison again.

            [“I _said_ it was no issue to dwell on the halfling. He’s just another prejudiced fool.”]

            [“Don’t be _you_ so prejudiced, Sunshine. He said no word, and he thanked us before _you_ started the issue.”]

            Aredhel rubbed her brow, tiredly. The possible causes and consequences of the avalanche still clung to her mind and she didn’t have time to reason it out yet, too focused on getting the collateral safely to Thranduil’s halls, but it blurred her reasoning all the same. And the perspective of seeing Thranduil was another nuisance.

            “Miladies?”

            They both turned to face Ferumbras, forgotten he was awake. He continued, a low voice matching his health state.

            “I apologize for giving you so much trouble; I… I’m just a hobbit from the Shire, I don’t understand the big things of the world; but I want you to know that I am thankful to you both, and I don’t care if other people ain’t. It is my own heart to yours, and my heart wouldn’t be beating if it weren’t for you ladies, and...” His voice was weak and tired, but he wanted to be sure his point was made. “…one who has been judged once will never judge another one.”

            The elves exchanged glances, watching him slumber into sleep again.

            “About love, you know.”

            Nellas waited until she thought the hobbit was asleep and untied the knot that made the blanket turn into a sling, turning the carrying sling back to its blanket form, using it to cover the trembling form of the poisoned man. It was the easiest way to do it without having him wincing in pain because of being moved.

            “Your medicine did him well, but the poisoning is still at work in the inside. The counter-venom must be instilled in his blood before the full moon.”

            “I know. But his body needs rest without moving, at least some hours per day, else the counter-poisoning effect athelas is able will not work. We must find the balance between our need for speed and allowing the medicine to work.”

            “You need rest, too.”

            “We are both overdoing, Nellas; I take first watch.”

            “No, you carried him the last hour, I take first watch, you sleep.”

            “I’m too worried to sleep, I take the watch.”

            “You are _always_ worried, if it were because of worrying, you’d _never_ sleep. I take the watch.”

            Aredhel sent Nellas a pleading side look.

            “I never sleep if you don’t make me to.”

            Nellas shook her head, amused, and her aquamarine eyes glistened in the darkness of the forest.

            “Come here. I’ll make you sleep, my sweet Sunshine.”

            With a sheepish smile, the blond one raised to her feet and walked to her partner, who had settled herself between the mighty roots of a tree, and now wrapped her arms around the one she loved, bringing her down and tight to her breasts. Her lips played with Aredhel’s earlobe and the sensitive side of her neck while she whispered, teasingly.

            “What will I do to tame my golden lioness tonight?”

            A lazy but sure hand traced from her thighs to her breasts, running all her sensitive spots, making Aredhel’s skin tremble under her riding clothes; then she untied the laces of her leather hauberk, easing the way to her breasts, and the ones of her riding pants.

            “I wish these were not tight as they are…”

            “Velvet, it is no place to spend time vulnerable, we should not even have started…”

            Nellas chuckled.

            “Then how do you want me to make you sleep?”

            Aredhel closed her eyes and sighed, knowing she was defeated. Keeping hope that relatively close to the borders of the forest they would still be safe, she let her shoulders melt, delivering herself into Nellas’ caressing hands.

            “Then come and make what you make best, sweet Velvet, come and take me to the shores of Aman, take me to the stars of Varda, take me to the depths of Ulmo and make me breath again…”

            Nellas wasted no time questioning Aredhel’s sudden change of opinion, rather holding her tighter and making way for one hand into Aredhel’s pants while the other kept under her shirt; the leather trousers were moved a bit downwards, enough to give Nellas’ room to touch her but not enough to prevent Aredhel from spreading her thighs apart.

            “I’m going to make my lioness sleep…”

            She had managed herself so Aredhel was somewhat sideways in her lap, one hand under her tunic and the other making its way into her pants; Nellas’ long fingers reached Aredhel’s clit and the blonde elf moaned.

            “My lioness is purring? My golden lioness wants more?”

            Aredhel was barely able to nod, throwing her head back to Nellas’s shoulder, only to feel her fingers make for her core; she purred as her girl asked her for. Nellas groaned in her ear and started to move her finger in Aredhel’s folds, finding her clit again, used to her anatomy, when the fair one put her own hand down to open her folds and expose her clit to Nellas’ caress.

            The movement grew faster, Nellas’ fingers running easy on the slick clit while she traced her neck with a teasing tongue; Aredhel’s moans excited her, and she felt her own wet folds pulse with need; but bringing her gold tanned half over the edge was a pleasure beyond account, to feel the blonde’s orgasm was her own achieving made her feel powerful and fulfilled.

            Aredhel felt it was getting impossible to hold back her release, the kneading on her nips making her crazy, her body tensing, building up a pleasure that had no more room to be kept inside; she cried out as her whole body trembled, a racking jolt shaking her while Nellas held her tight, not leaving her escape but to surrender to the inevitable.

            Nellas relaxed her grip and Aredhel slipped somewhat from her lap, leaning her head back to find a kiss placed on her brow.

            “Sleep now, Sunshine, sleep now…”

            The silver-haired elf agreed, unwilling, and laid beside the hobbit for the shared warmth. She was almost dozing off when she heard the trembling form mutter in his dreams.

            “Otho…”

 ooo000ooo

            The elves had run several days more, and thanked Elbereth for the good job Legolas and his crew where doing in keeping the path clean and safe. Even the bridge over the black river had been reconstructed, and they had crossed it two days before. They should be close to Thranduil’s halls by now, which was just in time, because after the painkiller bark lost its strenght for being used too many times, Ferumbras was getting worse again.

            The wound had mended, but the poisoning effects were worsening day by day, immobilizing him; it begun in his extremities, fingers and toes getting numb and weak, and then stiff, and was advancing up his limbs. There was a chance Thranduil had the counter-venom and that they would reach his halls in time, but if the paralysis reached his torso both lungs and heart would stop. Thanks to Estel and his athelas, it was taking far a longer time than it would usually, but there was no guarantee that he would come out of that ordeal unscathed.

            With this in mind Aredhel handled the sling with the sleeping (or was it unconscious?) hobbit to Nellas, and adjusted the backpack to her shoulders. They were running even at night, their elvish eyes able to see in the utter darkness of the forest, racing against time. Even if tired, they wanted to put some hours of path behind them before their brief rest.

            “Did you hear this?”

            Aredhel froze at Nellas’ question, taking a better grip of her spear.

            “There is something coming.”

            The sound of something large stumping and the crack of branches was almost clear to them, and approaching.

            “If we just move out of the way whatever it is might miss us.”

            “Let’s move, then, run!”

            They had not taken a dozen steps when another sound made them stop in their tracks. It was a scream. A human scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because it's time to handle out some gifts; let us see what the visitors brought to Erebor...


	19. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My brother, girls, these are Thorin and Frérin, sons of Kíli, heirs of Durin.”  
>  The boys bowed low and completed, in unison.  
>  “At your service!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m adding a little summary for you dear readers not to get lost on the OCs. It will contain a list with the OCs and characters named by Master Tolkien but not overly written about, if at all; I’ll list the character’s name, affiliation, age in one’s own original race and equivalent in human years, noted as D.A. (dwarven age), Ho.A. (hobbit age), E.A. (elf age, if needed; elves will mostly be referred only as children, younglings, adults and mature, if needed at all), N.A. (numenorean human age, for the Dúnedain) and H.A. (human age, the standard to what all other ages will be compared). I’ll not use any unchallengeable mathematical formula to convert ages, so the characters will be depicted mostly by my own feeling of what they should be/act at their equivalent in human age.  
> Have a nice reading and, if you liked, please review!  
> Dís: Daughter of Thráin, Kíli's mother; D.A. 209;  
> Kíli: Son of Dís; D.A. 105;  
> Ellen: Sister of Wolfram, aunt of Lily and Iris, wife of Kíli; E.A. adult; H.A. 35  
> Wolfram: Brother of Ellen and father of Lily and Iris; ; H.A. 49  
> Lily: Daughter of Wolfram, sister of Iris, niece of Ellen; D.A. 74; H.A. 25  
> Iris: Daughter of Wolfram, sister of Lily, niece of Ellen, bethroted to Bilbo; Ho.A. 34; H.A. 20  
> Thorin "Knee": Firstborn son of Kíli and Ellen; D.A. 26; H.A. 14  
> Frérin: Second son of Kíli; D.A. 21; H.A. 12  
> Lyn: Third child of Kíli, his first daughter; D.A. 15; H.A. 10  
> Fíli: Fourth child of Kíli, his third son; D.A. 10; H.A. 7  
> Kim: Fifth child of Kíli, his second daughter; D.A. 4; H.A. 3

            Two boys came rumbling and laughing inside the house, the younger one being tackled down by the other right after passing the living room door where the newcomers had just gathered. Only when they were on the ground did they notice the strangers. They spoke at the same time.

            “Who are you?” The younger one asked, trying to escape from under his older brother while holding a good sized book in his arms.

            “What are you doing here?” The older one questioned, trying to keep his brother in check.

            Lily heard it in shock. She had heard that question too many times to forget to whom it belonged last time she was in Middle-Earth. It must be just coincidence, of course, but one that she would not forget. Kíli tried to hide his chuckle while Ellen scolded them, a frown in her eyebrows that told the kids would be in trouble if they didn’t obey her.

            “Boys, this is no way to greet guests, moreover family! Stand up you two and pretend you have been taught manners!”

            The younglings stood up and straightened their dishevelled clothes, trying to recompose.

            “My brother, girls, these are Thorin and Frérin, sons of Kíli, heirs of Durin.”

            The boys bowed low and completed, in unison.

            “At your service!”

            “Boys, these are Wolfram the Green and his daughters Lily Grace and Iris Glory. He is your uncle and they are your cousins.”

            The three outsiders bowed as well, repeating the greeting.

            “At your service and your family’s!”

            The kids could not help themselves than to stare, wide eyed. Those three were names out of story, out of legend, they could not be real people. They had heard old Uncle Balin times enough retelling the taking back or Erebor, the Battle of Five Armies, the escape from the Goblin den, Thorin Oakenshield’s cure of the gold-sickness, all those stories, they were just stories from times before they were born, not something they could feel as being real, with real people who came to visit their home. Frérin elbowed his brother and whispered.

            “Knee, shut your mouth before they notice you’re dribbling.”

            “I’m _not_ dribbling!” Thorin whacked his younger brother trying not to be caught.

            “Yes you are!”

            “Hey, hey, you two, enough of this!”

            Kíli scolded them, but had to give reason to Frérin. Knee seemed mesmerized by the sight of his mother’s kin, and unable to look away.

            “Go wash yourselves and come to sit by us, we will have a lot of merrymaking today.”

            The brothers exchanged a glance and ran to the family chambers, chasing each other along the corridor, laughing again. Lily had a smile in her face when she spoke.

            “They are so cute! I hope they like the gift I chose for them.”

            “You know you didn’t have to bother about bringing gifts, Aunty, just your coming is a nameless gift.”

            Said Kíli, and he meant it; Iris embraced him once more and made him lean down to kiss his forehead.

            “It may be, Little Brother, but we chose to bring some gifts nonetheless. You know, hobbits are known for their love in sharing gifts. So, shut up and have your own!” She opened one of the backpacks and started to handle things out. “You know, not everything is really wrapped because we had so little room and had to take care with weight also, but this is what we managed to bring, I hope you like it.”

            The young king unwrapped the gift and looked at it with appreciating eyes, almost guessing what it was but not quite able to grasp its full meaning. He didn’t see the additional pack in Iris’ hands.

            “Is this a toy?” He turned the gift in his hands, trying to understand it. “I see it is a kind of bow, but it is small even for a hobbit. Is it meant for the younglings?”

            Lily took it from him and pulled a lever before nocking a bolt Iris handled her to its string. Kíli looked even more confused at the featherless small arrow, but it was clear the girls knew what they were doing. She looked at her elven aunt.

            “Ellen, somewhere I can shoot without you getting mad at me?”

            “Indoors? Hardly. But if you want a quick demonstration I think we can put that old cushion to that corner, I guess it will do, and my brats have used it as target times enough for me not to care anymore.”

            She did as she said and came back to where they were reunited. Lily walked back until she was on the opposite corner of the large room. Kíli shook his head in disbelief when she released the bolt from the strange bow, having it disappearing inside the cushion. It was clear the bolt could have reached a lot further.

            “What devilry is this?”

            Lily handled the weapon back in his hands.

            “This, my dear, is a composite crossbow. I hope you enjoy it!”

            “Ellen, did you know about this weapon of your world?”

            She half smiled.

            “Kind of.”

            “And you didn’t tell me anything about it? Can’t you see what improvement it can be to our army?”

            The elf rolled her eyes.

            “Kíli, one thing is to know something exists, other completely different is to understand how it works enough to explain it to someone so it can be made. I was a business woman, not a bloody engineer!”

            He looked down at the weapon in his hands and back at his wife, the angry glare of the king quickly replaced by the wide puppy eyes of the husband.

            “Of course, sorry. It’s just that it is so astounding that I lost my mind for a moment.” He turned back to her Earth family. “This is a gift that can mean the sparing of many a life in a war. I have no words to express my gratitude. We will have our Research and Development Team working on it by tomorrow.”

            “Research and Development Team?” Wolfram looked at his sister with suspicious eyes; better still, eyes that knew what he was seeing, no suspicion at all. “You do not ever drop the bone, do you?”

            She chuckled.

            “I’m just doing my job, Wolf! Why would I throw everything I learned into the garbage can, if it can be useful here?”

            “Hey, you big ones, help me to explain this to Bombur, would you?”

            Iris had got another gift from the backpack, and the red haired dwarf was turning it around in his hands without a clue. Wolfram got it headed for the main table, where he fastened the paraphernalia with its clamp.

            “Aye, now that I know what to do so that this thing doesn’t run away, you tell me what I do with it.”

            “Quite simple for one used to a kitchen to grasp its potential uses, Bombur. You put a bowl with whatever ingredients you want to mix right here and turn the handle this way…” Wolfram demonstrated. “And here it is! The manual Christy mixer does the work for you!”

            Bombur looked at the gadget, curiosity overpowering any restraints.

            “This is fabulous! I can see its applications! Thank you! Thank all of you!”

            He reached for the newcomers with a smashing hug. To see the fat dwarf joy in a simple kitchen aid was priceless. Iris took an Irish Uillean pipe out of the pack.

            “Here, Bofur, we thought this would be perfect for you.”

            The dwarf took the instrument in his hands in awe and curiosity, as he had never seen a flute like that. After a brief explanation, he tried some notes and found out it would not be so different from the flute he played after all, he just would have to practise a bit.

            “I loved it! Just not sure if the ones who hear me rehearse will approve, but it is a problem only if I care about it!”

            Bofur’s dark eyes shone with delight at the gift, so different from any dwarven stuff and even Dale’s. Of course Dale was not what it was before Smaug came, but still it was a name to be remembered when talking about gifts, and slowly flourishing back to its glory.

            “Now, sister, we have some specials for you, we are sure you will be pleased at…”

            Wolfram made a volume out of his pack, wrapped in one of his shirts to keep the metal from being scratched by his other things. Ellen took it in her hands with a sad smile.

            “My old moka-pot! If there is something I miss from our world, is the smell of coffee coming from this moka-pot in the morning. What a pity we have no coffee here, no traveller or merchant has ever brought something like coffee, and this longitude is too cold to try to grow it, even if you could bring me some seeds, which I know you cannot.”

            She opened the Italian device, noticing the rubber ring had been replaced by a leather one, and was beginning to think her wish for coffee was getting into her wits because she was smelling its aroma, when Lily placed a paper pack in her hand.

            “Here, Aunty. I know it won’t last until we visit again, but at least for a while you’ll have you caffeine dose!”

            Ellen cradled the four pounds coffee pack like it were a baby, eyes wet with emotion.

            “Coffee! You brought me coffee! Kíli, did you see this? It is coffee!”

            The dwarf laughed at his wife antics, whilst excusing her to her relatives.

            “If you knew how much I’ve heard her complain for the lack of coffee, you’d understand that even I myself am happy for the gift. Thank you very much!”

            “We have known Ellen without coffee available, Little Brother, I apologize for what you have been through.”

            “Kíli, there’s a chance!” The elf said, wide eyed at the conclusion she reached.

            “A chance of what, crazy woman?”

            “That there is coffee in Middle-Earth! You see, the things that don’t exist here changed themselves into things that exist when we cross both the slow-changing passage of the Map and the fast-changing Gate in Mirror Lake. If the coffee in this pack didn’t change itself into something else, it’s because somewhere in this world there are coffee plants! Kíli, coffee _exists_!”

            Kíli shook his head, amused.

            “So, after our quest to retake Erebor, you will set for a quest to find coffee, I see. Never satisfied, my fancy elf.”

            “I’m going to the kitchen make some coffee. Come, the best place in a house is always the kitchen. Tomorrow there will be a banquet in your honour, everybody will be there, but I believe most of the Company will find a way to greet you today, we will have our meal here at home. You can snack some cookies while I make coffee, dinner will take some time to be ready yet.”

            “Hmmm, Bombur’s cookies? I missed them so much! I’m glad I’ll be closer to them from now on.”

            “Yes, Iris, you’ll be only a five-month long journey, with roads clean. So, you’d better get the recipe and make them yourself in the Shire!”

            The coffee was beginning to spread its delicious smell around when Dís came in with the three younger ones, with which she had spent some hours at the seamstress preparing their clothes for the wedding party days. Lyn was quite fond of fine gowns, much unlike her mother and very like her uncle Balin, but Fíli and Kim gave her a lot of trouble to get their outfits tried on and measured to adjusting, much like their father and uncle Dwalin would.

            The kids were enthralled by the sight of the visitors, who had come back to the main living room when they heard people coming in, and Dís didn’t skip the chance to tease the young bride whom her sons had claimed as Little Sister.

            “So, this is the hobbit.”

            She said with a smirk in her lips, circling the red haired girl, who didn’t have the nerve to stand what Bilbo had in years before, even if she was determined to not make war to the mother of her beloved Little Brother.

            “Yes, it is, Milady, and over there are my swords at your service, as they have been at your brother’s, before you ask me what is my weapon of choice.”

            Dís stopped in front of Iris, rightfully smiling.

            “This is not just _the hobbit_ ; one as insolent as only I myself could be at this young age can only be my own Little Daughter!”

            They embraced warmly, and the hobbit-lass felt tears welling in her eyes, having being accepted so quickly and completely by the mother she never had. Her aunt had helped her father to raise her after her mother died in childbirth, and she loved her dearly, of course, but Ellen had been just a teenager when Iris was born, and their relationship was more that of sisters with a large gap of age than that of mother and child. Dís was the first female in her life Iris heard calling her _daughter_. She would never forget it.

            Unable to find words to express herself, Iris wiped her eyes with the back of a hand and went to her backpack, fetching a box covered in rich marquetry that she put in Dís’ hands. The dwarven lady took it with care, attentive of the delicate handicraft, and opened the lid, curious.

            “This is… This is just so beautiful! Look at all these colours, at how fine these threads are!” She gave a side look to Ellen and then back to Iris. “I can bet my beard on who told you about my love for embroidery, am I right?”

            Aunt and niece laughed merrily. Indeed, the box Dís held contained a very broad set of silk threads fit for embroidery.

            “I hope you like it.” Iris shuffled her feet, insecure. “The box was my Grandma’s, and Lily helped me to choose the colours.”

            Dís turned to the young dwarven woman with deep sea blue eyes, stroking her rich hazelnut hair with a broken smile in her own lips; she noticed a certain pair of braids and handled them with care.

            “It’s been a long time I don’t see these beads… You must be very special to have conquered my stubborn and grumpy brother’s heart…”

            They embraced, moved, Lily having a hard time holding herself not to cry.

            “He was not really that stubborn and grumpy, he was just determined and worried too much, that is all.”

            Dís moved a step back to give Lily an appreciative look.

            “As I said, you must be very special; none that was not very special would ever understand him like this.”

            The sensitive moment was broken by a small tug in Lily’s skirt.

            “I wanna hug from Aunty Lily.”

            Lily looked down at the dwarfling who claimed her attention.

            “And this must be little Fíli!”

            She knelt in front of him and gave him a rightful embrace, caressing his soft blond hair braided so alike the Fíli she knew that it hurt.

            “I am Fíli, son of Kíli, son of Dís, at your service!”

            The little one recited his name proudly and bowed low, to the adults’ amusement.

            “And I am Lily, daughter of Wolfram, son of Nyda, at your service!” She stood up to bow properly, and added. “But I’m your cousin, dear, not our aunty.”

            Lily tried to explain to the youngling, but Fíli was heartbroken.

            “But I want you to be my Aunty! Why can’t she be my Aunty, Ma?”

            “Because she is daughter to my brother, so, she is my niece, and your cousin. She cannot be your Auntie, dear.” Ellen explained, while thinking sadly, ‘O _r Kíli’s, not anymore_ ’

            Her logic didn’t make sense to the little blond dwarf.

            “Da always calls her ‘Aunty’ when he shows me her drawing. Why can’t she be my Aunty too?”

            Lily herself was working her brains hard to get out of the painful memories those meetings were flooding her, but could find nothing to save her; her father, on the other hand, came out with what he could.

            “Because… if she were your aunt, I could not be your uncle, and if I were not your uncle, I could not give you this!”

            Wolfram produced a bag from out of his backpack and handled it to the dwarfling, who took it with curiosity.

            “Thank you very much, Uncle Wolfram son of Nyda.”

            Fíli opened the cloth bag and peeped inside; then he put his hand in, grabbed something and retrieved some small pieces of carved and painted wood.

            “What is this?”

            Iris came to his aid, sitting cross legged on the floor close to him.

            “Here, lend me these blocks, I’ll show you.”

            Fíli sat beside her, curious, and Kim invited herself to sit beside them.

            “See, these blocks are like stones with which you can build things, like a house, a stable, anything.”

            While she spoke, she arranged the wooden building blocks to show him, who instantly grabbed the idea and a couple of blocks.

            “Wow, this is awesome! I’ll build a castle.”

            And saying so, Fíli laid himself belly down and started to arrange the wooden blocks to achieve his intent. The adults who were aware of the hurt all those mentions to the original quest brought to the visitors breathed in relief, until a very small hand tugged Wolfram’s tunic.

            “Do _Unca Woof_ have a _p´esent_ for _Kee_ , too?”

            He sat on a coach next and put Kim her on his lap, wringing his mind for a solution.

            “Hmm, Kim, I must tell you something very complicated. In the place where I live, owls don’t bring us letters so frequently, so we didn't bring a present…”

            “And the _´avens_?”

            “What?”

            “Ma and Da send _lette´s_ with _´avens_ , not owls!”

            “Ouch, so, where I live, only owls go, not the ravens.”

            The dark haired girl blinked hard, trying to figure out what that meant, and came back to attack.

            “But why _Unca don´_ have a _p´esent_ for _Kee_?”

            “Because no owl brought me a letter saying I had a little pretty princess niece to whom I could bring a present, Kim. I didn’t know, I didn’t know I had a new niece.”

            The little one fingered a strand of hair, making out what that meant, and howled in distress.

            “ _Unca Woof don´_ know _Kee_ , _Unca Woof don´_ has _p´esent fo´ Kee, bu-hu_ …”

            Wolfram held the toddler close to him, caressing her hair, trying to comfort her and exchanging desperate glances with his daughters, all of them wringing their brains for a solution.

            “I’m sorry, brother, there was really no way to send you news about her birth, and…”

            “It is no one’s fault, Ellen, but I really should have brought some extra stuff, just in case.”

            It was none of the adults who came out with a solution.

            “Here, _Kee_ , come play with me. There’re too many pieces for me to play alone with them, I need you to help me, sis.”

            Kim wiped her nose in her sleeve and looked at him.

            “ _Fee_ wanna _Kee_ to play?”

            “Yes, I want, _Kee_. We can share the present, can’t we?”

            Her puppy eyes shone like stars and she threw herself into Fíli’s arms, knocking him down on the floor.

            “And _Kee_ build house for _BUNNIES_!

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Knee and Frérin chat while doing their hairs to meet the outsider family properly, after a bath that bore away some pounds of library dust. The book they borrowed laid quiet on Knee’s desk, and it would have to wait to be read, as there would be so more exciting things happening the next days than to read a Bertiasij, they deemed.

            “Did you see Lady Lily? She is _ageless_!”

            Knee could not silence his astonishment, and his brother had to agree.

            “She is! She is even more beautiful than Mister Ori’s drawings picture her.”

            “His drawings have no colour. The colour of her eyes is like...”

            “...Like the colour of clouds in a thunderstorm...”

            “...Or the colour of the sky in a summer night...”

            “But she has no beard on her chin.”

            “Mother has no beard at all, what’s the problem?”

            “I can understand why grand-uncle Thorin fell in love with her.” Frérin stated, sighing.

            “No!” Knee almost shouted, then tried to regain his composure. “No, Frér, don’t ever think of falling in love, she had been Compromised to grand-uncle, she’s a Jewel who already found her Guardian, she is untouchable, you know.”

            The younger one stared at him, surprised.

            “Who said anything about falling in love? I just said I understood why _he_ fell in love with her, not that I had any idea about her, your silly one!”

            Feeling stupid, Knee paid sudden attention to the bead that finished the last of his braids and tried to sound serious.

            “I’m just explaining our cousin is someone who already had a Compromise, not one whom you can look at as if she were an ordinary person.”

            “You sound like Uncle Balin, Knee. What is the problem?”

            “Problem? There is no problem, not even an ounce of a problem, what are you talking about? Here, let me finish this braid, else we will be ready for breakfast instead of dinner.”

            “As if your stomach would let you miss a meal…”

            “Ready! Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

            “Now tell me a novelty…”

            The brothers reached the corridor and ran.

            “The last to reach dinning room is a maimed orc!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why you should not skip next chapter: Because you shouldn't forget Mirkwood has a Gate too


	20. The Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs or other adults acting like children."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces a novelty, my first per-request character insert; it was a challenge I accepted from a friend; I hope you enjoy her and the developments her presence in Middle-Earth will cause.

            Gwendolin lifted her eyes from the magazine she was perusing absently, got a look at the surrounding sky and checked her watch. She had close to fifty minutes of flight to go, yet, and her legs were cramped in the economic class seat. The idea that she was going to attend a test for a studio was enough to make her forget the cramps.

            She had worked hard to get this appointment, had sent pics of her work, samples, schemes, schedules showing how her workflow worked (duh!) and references that stated how she was at coordinating people to do what she designed, when she had to do a lot of work at once. She herself loved to sew, but huge works would be impracticable without a team. The beer add job had been a challenge, to dress two hundred people in old Rome style in just one week, and if she didn’t have the skill to make people do what she needed them to, she would not have succeeded. That job opened to her the door to offer her custom styling service to that studio, and she grabbed the chance with both hands.

            Leaving her home to live in England was an issue, but a double-sided one. For one she feared leaving the safeness of what she had known all her life, even if it was not what most people would dream off, and if she had gone though some hard times while there; on the other hand, the idea of living on her own, away from the nuns, was very exciting. The clouded sky and the cramped seat were quite the opposite, boring her to death. She didn’t know her boredom would have a subtle end.

            “Good evening, dear passengers; here is Captain Strauss, pilot of this flight. We are entering a turbulence zone which is expected to get us about four minutes to cross. Please keep your seat belts tight and follow any further orientation from the flight attendants.”

            “ _Holly Cross, that’s exactly what I needed_.” Thought Gwendolin. “ _Flying is more safe than driving, flying is more safe than driving_ …” She began to chant mentally as a mantra to help her to keep calm whilst the airplane jolted hard; she had a tendency to get fidgety in any unexpected experience, and learned the trick of making up a reassuring mantra years ago. Not that it worked always, but at least it was a try.

            The four minutes took forever to pass, and when the voice of the pilot was heard again in the loudspeaker the girl sighed in relief.

            “Dear passengers, we have successfully crossed the turbulence zone and will be OH MY GOD!”

            A hard bump accompanied the pilot’s cry, and people around her begun to scream as the plane begun to obviously descend; Gwendolin remembered to breath when she found out one of the screams was hers; she tried to follow the attendant’s orientations at the beginning of the flight.

            “ _In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face.  If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs or other adults acting like children_."

            She worked hard to follow the instructions and not be one of the said adults acting like children, but it was not easy. Helpfully, the lights were on and not flickering like in plane disaster movies, else she was sure she would break and panic.

            “Here’s Cap. Welch, the co-pilot; we hit a very large bird and are damaged; the plane is under control but losing potency, so we will make an emergency landing while it’s still possible. Please keep calm, keep your seat belts tight and follow any further orientation from the flight attendants.”

            How the crew was able to keep that seemingly calm tone was a mystery, but she guessed lots of training and having gone through that kind of incident before could be an explanation. She grabbed the ring that hung from her necklace and breathed deep. If everything went wrong, she would be reunited to her parents soon.

            This thought brought her a strange serenity, and she was able to look to the people around her. Some were still crying, some with closed eyes mumbling to themselves, a mother holding her child as close to her as the seat belt allowed, several praying. She herself didn’t feel the need to pray, even having being conditioned to it by the nuns who raised her. It had been a long time already since she came to the conclusion that no god would really hear her prayers. If there was a god to hear her, she would not have spent her whole life in the orphanage.

            Some tense minutes later the plane landed with a crash and lots of jolting, but, against her fears, no explosion, fire, smoke, or being turned to any weird angle. If prayers were needed for that miracle to happen, hers had not been missed. Gwendolin preferred to believe the pilot was very good at what he worked. She would surely thank him and say it to him, if she had the chance.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            They landed in the middle of a forest, in a small patch of lower growth and bushes. The pilot had been able to make the plane slide on the tree tops, slowing it down, and the final crash was its encounter with the ground. After getting out of the aircraft, the co-pilot explained they had a problem with the radio and were unable to communicate with the airport, but a missing plane would be tracked in few hours, so, it was a matter of getting luggage out of the broken thing and keep a safe distance from it, because of the risk of fire or explosion.

            It was dark but not raining, luckily, which made the passengers and crew feel less miserable, and the attendants distributed fairly any snack left inside. The young woman nibbled the roast beef sandwich and put it her bag for later, too nervous to eat. Now, it was to sit down and wait. Not that Gwendolin was comfortable in sitting down and wait, it made her rather fidgety, and she took her handbag with her while taking a walk around the plane; she would _not_ let her sewing and fashion drawing stuff somewhere to be trampled in the dark, and her things were not heavy at all, only a pair of changes of clothes, sewing stuff and a note to write down her thoughts and drafts. It was only a test, after all, she would be flying back to San Diego the next day, and if everything went out fine, then she would see about moving.

            Some while later they saw lights in the forest, and voices calling. A small group of end-of-career teenagers approached, led by an elderly man and another adult who was very huge, a bear of a man, one could say. The white-bearded one explained the pilots he was director of a boarding school nearby, and he had come along his gardener and some students from the last year to help them out of the forest, which he swore was a dangerous place.

            She was thinking what size of bird would be able to do such a damage she saw in the turbine, but then the plane was flying at a speed that anything would do a damage; but then, what kind of bird would be flying at that altitude?

            Her surmises were cut off by a crack in the nearby trees; the crew and remaining passengers where at the other side of the plane, she had been foolish enough to wander alone to see the damage to the turbine and now _there was a hell-damned crack in the trees and some animal was about to get her_!

            Gwendolin’s limbs were smarter than herself and set her running wild to the opposite direction the sound had come, not really registering that if she ran to where the people were it was most probable that the animal would be scared of a large bunch of humans and back off; oblivious to this kind of safety measure, she heard someone shout a word that sounded like “ _troll_ ” and other people screaming. She at least had saved her lungs for running rather than for screaming, else the animal would have caught her already. Hearing the loud thumps of large feet behind her, Gwendolin didn’t waste time looking behind her, and run deeper into the forest as if her life depended upon it. Actually, _it did_.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “ _Troll? What do they mean by troll?_ ” She thought while she ran, not daring to waste time looking back. “ _It is not that the director of the school looks like Dumbledore that there is a chance to be a troll in this forest!_ ” Gwendolin heard the stumping closer and started to zig-zag the trees trying to confound the animal. A large trunk seemed to be what was needed to catch her breath and she rounded it as the animal passed by, and she bit back a curse – after all, the nuns had raised her not to swear, and old habits were hard to change.

            “ _I’m not seeing this, this is an illusion, there are no real trolls in the real world, I hit my head in crash and that sandwich was contaminated by some weird fungus and now I’m delirious!_ ”

            The troll eventually stopped and turned back when it perceived she was no more running in front of him, looking straight in her direction; she managed to get out of the rabbit instinct of freezing and started to run again in other direction.

            “ _It is a troll, it is really a troll, I’ve seen a troll and the worst of all is that the moron has seen ME!_ ”

            All the zig-zags and turns and twist she was making helped to avoid the monster, but also made it impossible to find her way back to the plane; she sought for places where the trees where closer one to the other, where she could squeeze herself through and hopefully leave the “ _idiot, disgusting, dullard, peabrain, goofus, beastly moron of a troll_ ” behind. The throbbing of her own blood in her ears along with the stumping of the “ _repugnant, numbskull, ignominious, vomitous, horrid oaf_ ” didn’t let her take a clue of where the plane could possible be.

            The prospect of being caught for any unspeakable purpose by the “ _nauseating twerp, lamebrain schmuck_ ” made her bemoan the fact that she never dated any boys (not that she ever dated any girls) and how she got her first kiss when a boy pulled her into the boy’s bathroom and kissed her in front of all people in second grade, but actually it really wasn’t the “ _blockhead, ditz, loathsome and hateful moron’s_ ”fault.

            Obviously, calling the “ _cretin butthead, shabby lummox_ ” names didn’t help her to get rid of that “ _repulsive , sickening and nauseating jerk_ ”, but at least it kept her mind from panicking, even if fleeing from that “ _gross, idiotic dimwit_ ” was reason enough to panic on any account.

            Gwendolin was almost believing she had outwitted the “ _nincompoop, goofball, objectionable dope_ ” when her foot found a root it wasn’t looking for, not at all, and a loud “Ouch!” left her lips and the “ _repellent, contemptible bozo_ ” turned to her direction again, only to be greeted by her accusative cry while she stumbled to her feet.

            “Did you see what you did, you moronic oaf?”

            The bewildered look the troll directed her could be considered comical if the circumstances were different, which means, if she weren’t there at all, but as it was all Gwendolin could possibly do was to regain her footing and run even more; but the dam had burst open and the insult stream was far from wearing off.

            “At least if you kill me I’ll see my parents in heaven, you despicable dummy, imbecile idiot, thickheaded twit, detestable dolt, abhorrent airhead, birdbrained boob, dirty denderhead, awful abomination, lousy lowdown, disgusting dipstick, nasty ninny, insuferable ignoramus, ghastly goof, dumbheaded donkey, foul fool, heinous horror!”

            She heard a whiz somewhat above her head and the “ _wretched, monstrous_

 _nitwit_ ” left out a surprised roar that made the girl look behind to see what happened. Seemingly out of nothing, a dark streak of blood run from the “ _offensive, appalling zombie’s_ ” torso, and a new blood stream appeared right after a new whiz cruised the air. Taking advantage of the “ _intolerable, revolting turkey’s_ ” sudden distraction, Gwendolin made a new dash to get away from the “ _odious and unspeakable dumdum_ ”. She ran right into the midst of the two strangest women she had ever seen.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Aredhel regretted silently not having brought Culuin with them, as an expert bowman would be of use right then; but that would mean to leave the rest of the party with no supplies at all, and none of them imagined they would really have any challenge in the forest path if they were silent and fast, as they were being until then; but then it was not expected to find a troll, or to be found by one, by the way. Trolls were expected to be found in Rhudaur, avoided around the Ered Mithrin, suspected in any cave and forgotten about in most of the rest of Middle-Earth. There were no trolls in Mirkwood, even in its darkest times, moreover now that the Necromancer had been outcast from Dol Guldur. Also, there were no humans in Mirkwood besides the rough woodmen that dwelt south of the Old Forest Road, not that north anyway.

            The direction of the source of the noise was obvious to the elves, and they prepared for the worst they knew would be coming. Nellas untangled Ferumbras from the sling and hid him almost under the roots of a tree, with strict orders to stay out of the way (just as if he were able to walk at all), hoping he would be unscathed, un-trampled and simply unharmed; then she loosened the holders of some of her throwing knifes, held one prompt to be thrown in a hand whilst the other had three more ready to be used with no delay. Aredhel took a better grip on her spear and they waited for the first sight of the beast.

            “…awful abomination, lousy lowdown, disgusting dipstick, nasty ninny, insuferable ignoramus, ghastly goof, dumbheaded donkey, foul fool, heinous horror!”

            Nellas’ first knife flew as soon as she got a sight of the troll, quickly followed by a second, reaching their marks and resulting in a tree-shaking roar of the beast; she transferred one of the remaining knifes to her right hand and made a double throw, right before a blonde girl stormed between her and her partner.

            The girl had an advantage of several yards on her pursuer, and it was slightly slowed by the four knives it had on its body. Aredhel shoved her in the general direction of where Nellas had stored Ferumbras and concentrated on the huge enemy’s movement, easily calculating the distance, speed and power of the blow she would deal into his heart. Not that there was any number in her mind, her calculating was the natural result of ages of training, and meant a perfect comprehension of the space around her and of her own abilities, her muscles exerting the exact amount of strength needed to accomplish what she intended. And she intended death.

            Gwendolin watched bewildered from behind the large roots of the tree as the black-haired tall woman threw knifes with surgical precision into the “ _vile_ _shameful rotten dumbo’s_ ” body, each of them taking its toll from it; she had to stop herself from jumping out of her hiding place when the other woman run forward with a _very_ large spear in her hands, aimed to the “ _base goon’s_ ” chest, but held herself when she realised there was a guy beside her. The poor soul was barely able to keep his eyes open, but his look was of anguish. Having nothing better to do right then, she asked, gingerly.

            “Do you want me to inform you what I see of their fight?”

            He blinked once and breathed something she presumed was a _yes_. Gwendolin tried her best to be an announcer to the tiny pale guy

            “So. The blonde run to it with her spear; the other threw more knives; it roared, but you can hear it, I don’t have to tell you; it turned left in the last moment and the blonde missed her spear-blow, I didn’t imagine a hulk like that could move so fast; the brunette got some larger knives and is heading right into the filth’s direction, she must be crazy; the blonde made several gashes in it’s side but she doesn’t look satisfied with it, she is taking some steeps behind to get a better aim, I think; the brunette jumped like a weird ninja and stabbed her knives into the freak’s knee, now it is stumbling down and wow! The blonde got her spear right into its chest, I think she is going to kill it, but argh, no! No! Leave her alone, you wretched idiotic moron! He got the brunette and he is shaking her by her neck like she were a ragdoll, oh, no, no, no, the blonde got her spear back and now she cut it’s wrist, it is shedding a waterfall of dark blood and he dropped the brunette, the blonde aimed and got her spear right into the beast’s heart, if the heart of a beast is in the same place as ours; it must be, because it is falling forward grabbing the spear shaft and trying to pull it out, but it cannot. It fell. It is still. The blonde killed it.”

            Ferumbras felt relieved that the troll was seemingly dead, but worried about his elven guardians, and tried to move from their hiding; Gwendolin perceived his intention and helped him to his feet, only then taking note of his really short stature. While in the orphanage, being the nuns’ pet, she got well acquainted to people with any kind of disability, and dwarfism was nothing unheard of or unknown to her. She even knew that some kinds of dwarfism were proportional, so he was no freak to her.

            “I think it is safe for us to get out of here, buddy; are you all right?”

            The hobbit nodded, but his limbs were stiff and he was getting trouble to speak. He was worried about Nellas, as from the strange girl’s account she had been dropped from the troll’s grasp, which surely had not been the gentlest one could imagine. The blonde girl stepped out of the tree root hiding and lent her hand to the hobbit, and then helped him to walk propping him under his arms, perceiving he was unable to walk on his own. The scene that greeted them was horrible to any accounts, moreover to those two who had never seen real battle in life.

            The troll was dropped on his belly, Aredhel’s spear head showing through his back, having trespassed his huge body after making several smaller damages along his torso and arms, specially his wrists; if they were able to see his front side, they would have seen several throwing knives of different sizes showing only their handles out of the troll’s body, making it look like a pincushion.

            The blonde elf was knelt beside her partner, unmoving, some yards from the deceased troll; her hand touched lightly the face of the now even paler raven-haired elf, carefully bringing her head to a more normal position. Her hand trembled as she traced Nellas’ eyebrows with a finger, and then caressed her face, unable to believe or to accept her loss.

            “Wake up, o please wake up, Velvet, wake up...”

            Her muttering mingled with sobs as realization struck her hard. There would be no waking up, there would be no song nor laughter, there would be no Nellas anymore. Aredhel cradled the head of the fallen one to her breasts, covering her face with kisses and tears that would not stop. She had seen death before, she had seen too many deaths to remain sane, yet the dark haired elf was her sanity, her light, her breath, the glue that kept the fragments of her soul together; and now she was gone.

            “[NO!]”

            Aredhel’s cry was loud, and deep, and it reverberated into Ferumbras and Gwendolin’s bodies like the drums of an ancient culture’s rituals, like the rumble of a thunder that doesn’t set out lightning, but keeps in its core all the power nature in itself can muster.

            They watched the elf’s crude pain for they didn’t know how long, uncertain and unable to do anything to ease her wracking sobs, to comfort someone who clearly had lost everything that gave meaning to her life. The girl was oblivious to it, but Ferumbras had witnessed not only the strong bond of the two but also the blonde’s usual stone mask, gruff manners and ostensible self control. To see Aredhel cry her innards out was almost obscene.

            The prayers Gwendolin was unable to say for herself in the crashing plane came to her in behalf of that dead woman she never knew before, and of the one who cried her death so painfully. No conscious movement was made, but when the girl realized she and the tiny man had knelt beside them and added their arms and tears to the portrayal of grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful readers, Ferumbras will finally have some help, but Gwendolin gets more and more confused… but then, wouldn’t you?  
> I thank you all for your follows and kudos and coments, you really make my day and keep me encouraged to struggle on in this adventre!  
> Namarië!


	21. The One who Doesn’t get Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you know it is a boy?” Asked a curious Iris to Óin, and then to the dwarrowdam. “And what is a ‘baby-basket’?”  
>  The healer chuckled.  
>  “When there is only one girl born to every three or four boys, it is an easy guess. And then, none expects me to be right all the times.”

            Next morning brought more members of the Company to visit the Earthlings, and more gifts were delivered. Óin was flabbergasted with this Camman’s binaural stethoscope, as even if it would not help him in day-to-day hearing, the steel, cotton and bird guts device would be useful to hear the insides and help to diagnose the patient’s problem. Glóin and Gimli enjoyed the matching mugs with knuckleduster like handlers, deeming them proper for a drinking contest they would hold right then if Ylm didn’t prevent her husband and son from opening an ale barrel before breakfast. Dori was looking forward to a special opportunity to taste the otherworldly wine bottle, and Ori was positively impressed by the fountain pen. But none of them was as obviously happy as Nori with his weighted-knuckle gloves.

            “Look at this! Look at this! What do you see? You see _gloves_! You don’t see the knuckledusters concealed inside it, it raises no suspicion!”

            Dori chuckled at his once problem-child brother.

            “I’m glad you didn’t have these back in the Blue Mountains, you provided trouble enough without this aid.”

            “If I had a pair of these I’d provided far less trouble, brother. Or, at least, I would have been caught in trouble far less times.”

            “Aye, you would have left Dwalin completely bald instead of half.”

            The starfish haired dwarf’s eyes shone maniacally.

            “What a splendid idea! Thank you, Dori!”

            Dori took a step back and weaved his hands in front of him, panicking.

            “No! No, no, no, no, no, don’t you dare to get twisted ideas, you have been out of trouble time enough to be accounted for as a respectable Ri, there is no need to change it!”

            Nori’s smile was wicked.

            “Why should I, brother? But you have to concede that having Dwalin not knowing something I’m able to do is at least amusing.”

            Dori turned to the six feet five inches tall green wizard with an accusative raised finger to his nose.

            “Do you see what you have done? You created a _monster_! Do you know how many times I’ve had to get Nori out of jail? And now you just gave him a pair of gloves that allow him to walk with metal covering his knuckles and the backs of his fingers and the back of his hands and it is completely indistinguishable from an ordinary glove!”

            Wolfram opened his hands in a peace gesture, almost amused by the massive dwarf’s anger.

            “Does it mean he will be safer when dealing with _delegates_ of other kingdoms?”

            Dori stared at him with his mouth slightly open, a finger still in the air. His hand came down and found the other in his back, an unreadable look in his azure eyes. His mouth shut for an instant before he conceded.

            “The nature of the work my brother has been assigned really makes it… _favorable_ … to have self protection measures at hand.” He shook his head, relaxing. “Maybe I should wear some kind of glove, too, so it would seem to be a family kink and none would notice Nori’s.”

            Said Nori smiled brightly.

            “Now, now, finally you got the idea that sometimes the best way to ‘protect’ me is _not_ going after me to see what I’m doing?” He turned to an amused Wolfram. “Nine years ago I was working out what a certain trade agreement meant for the Carnen river people; they came with a prospect where it was not really clear who would be committed to what, and they were very pressing on getting the contract sealed. One evening I was about to get the stuff out of one of them when Dori came to the inn and made a scandal to get his _drunk brother_ out of there, and it was completely impossible to make him understand that, one, I was _not_ drunk, I was making _him_ to get drunk so I could get the information I needed; two, I needed _no_ rescue and, four, I’m able to keep a honest job without his help.”

            “And the ‘ _three_ ’?” An angry older brother tapped the floor with a foot, arms crossed on his chest.

            “The three is that you don’t have to fuss over me, but this I thought you knew already!”

            Iris and Óin were discussing the uses of the stethoscope, as she was telling him what she learnt in her midwife tech school. She thought it strange that, being a healer for so a long time, the dwarf spoke of childbirth as a thing he was not that used to.

            “How could I? Our race grows slowly and had been dwindling since this realm was taken by the worm. Fortunately there have been more births since we came back to Erebor than in all our years of exile, almost one per month instead of one per year.”

            Ylm turned to him.

            “By the way, Óin, isn’t Dhal almost there?”

            The salt-and-pepper haired healer (more salt than pepper, actually) looked at his sister-in-law with a smile.

            “Yes, yes, she must be. The boy is almost ready.”

            “Then I must get her baby-basket ready.”

            “How do you know it is a boy?” Asked a curious Iris to Óin, and then to the dwarrowdam. “And what is a ‘baby-basket’?”

            The healer chuckled.

            “When there is only one girl born to every three or four boys, it is an easy guess. And then, none expects me to be right all the times.”

            Ylm explained.

            “And the baby-basket is a gift from the kingdom to every baby that is born, and I’m in charge of it. It contains assorted clothes, swaddles, balms for the baby’s skin, tonics for the mother, some stuffed toys, herbs for teas that are good for both the baby and the mother, things to tend the navel, a carrying sling, blankets, a mattress, sheets and a small pillow fit for the baby, and the basket, of course.”

            Iris was curious.

            “The basket is part of the gift?”

            “Sure! It is the right size to be used as a cradle for the first two or three years. And when the baby is named, he receives a record of his family tree.”

            “This… this is so kind, so sweet!”

            Glóin brought her back to the practicality of it.

            “It is coherent with our long-term goals, and with what we believe to be right. The Longbeards suffered too many losses, in Smaug’s attack, in the wandering days and in the six-year war against the orcs that ended at the Battle of Azanulbizar. Too few children were born in this time, and now we must make for the lost time if we are to grow as a people. So, we encourage marriage and childbearing.”

            “I see. Ellen wrote the children are provided food and clothing, too.”

            “Yes, they can be, but most parents decline it, when they don’t have the need. It doesn’t mean any child is not welcome to a meal in the main dining hall anytime of the day, or that they cannot have an extra cloak or blanket in winter, even if they don’t need this help along the rest of the year. But the baby-basket is mandatory, every child born in Erebor and in Thorin’s Halls in the Blue Mountains earns it, since the Retake.”

            “The Blue Mountains? I though all people had moved back here.”

            “Most did, but experience taught us that an abandoned cave is a nest for orc and goblin, so we kept Thorin’s Halls as well, under Flóin, a sworn ruler loyal to the line of Durin. In the long years of exile many of us got attachments in the Blue Mountains and find it hard to move.”

            Ori was offering the guests to visit the library, to what Knee and Frérin sneezed loudly, interrupting Lily’s explanation of the knight’s movements on the chessboard game she gave them, when a ward came in and excused himself to bring some words from Balin to Kíli. Soon the young king was back to the assembled family, company, troop, whatever, and broke the news to the visitors.

            “Wolfram, girls, we planned to make a tour today for you to see the rebuilt kingdom, but me and Ellen will have to attend a meeting. We were long expecting a delegation of a northern people, we just didn’t know when they’d come, and now they arrived, we must see them, it would be most impolite to have them waiting after weeks of travelling in the wild. Would you please apologize us this unexpected appointment? We will be together tonight, though.”

            Wolfram pointed the logic out.

            “There’s nothing to apologize for an unexpected happening! Me and my daughters are on vacation, to any account, but we know you are on duty, go ahead. We will find means to entertain ourselves.”

            “Thank you very much for your understanding, brother; there are things I cannot delegate to anyone, if you take my meaning. My presence is required.”

            “No, I don’t, Ellen, but I respect it under the circumstances, as you are not a manager anymore.”

            “That's where you're wrong, brother!”

            Something snapped in his head.

            “You told me several times that a manager had to be able to delegate, so, just out of curiosity, why can’t you delegate this time? Kíli will be there, and Balin, and several others, it is not like none of them would not gather any relevant data you would like to know. Why is your presence so required?”

            “Because of this.”

            Wolfram’s eyes got locked in her intense gaze, and he felt himself immobilized where he was. He knew those grey-blue eyes since she was born, and yet they were different. Something dragged him into those eyes, and he felt bare, naked. It was not quite uncomfortable because he really had nothing to hide from his sister, but it was clear it would be impossible to lie to her without it being known. An understanding smile broke the spell, and both laughed.

            “You didn’t learn this at the uni!”

            “Nor at the mastering degree classes!”

            “So, then, what’s up?”

            “Do you remember when I wrote you I spent some time in Imladris? Elrond helped me to develop this elven talent, he says for my own safeness, but I haven’t developed it much further than what he taught me, as I have no elf who masters this ability nearby that is willing to help in my training, if you know who I mean, and I have really too little time living as an elf to master anything at all. Come on, I’d be accounted as barely having reached adulthood in elven standards, I’m not reckoned this way only because of  my previous human life, which gives me an advantage in maturity issues. It would take thousands of years to master this talent to its full, but as it is, it serves Erebor quite well.”

            Wolfram nodded.

            “So, you must attend the meeting to know the truth about the delegation members.

            “No, brother, that would be much more than I’m able. But I can say which way one’s intentions lead, like that ‘sense motive’ in Dungeons & Dragons, do you remember? I’m barely able to tell if someone is telling the truth or not, and which way one’s mind wanders. But it is enough for most circumstances, I must reckon. At least, we know when we can and when we can’t trust someone words.”

            “And when dealing with foreigners, it is completely relevant, I see.”

            “Yep. But it makes me sad to have less time with you, and for you to be stuck here when you could be… wait just a minute!”

            Ellen turned to the black haired dwelfling who looked at the chessboard frowning like he could undo a bishop’s movement using only his willpower.

            “Knee, dear, what were you planning to do this afternoon?”

            Her firstborn turned to her with un-amused but pleading eyes.

            “Me and Frérin are bound to dust the library, Ma.”

            She shook her head, defeated.

            “While dusting the library, have you at least found _one_ book worthy of your interest to be read? It’s been some days, already, you should have stumbled on something interesting.”

            The boys looked at each other, in a smiling agreement.

            “Aye!”

            “Then, you are released of your penalty; but, then…”

            Ellen was silenced by her younglings cheers and happy dance around the table.

            “No more dusting shelves, no more dusting shelves…”

            “ _Shazara_!”

            The boys turned to stone in the second.

            “You are released from the library, but you will lead your uncle and cousins to know the kingdom, all right? The ones of the Company who were able came just to pay a short visit before they go to their duties, and the others are quite as busy. You can take them to where they are working, though, so they will themselves tell what Erebor has become in the recent years. Your relatives  been here when it was all broken and dragon-filthy, you know so many beautiful places they would like to know, please do this for me. And you can choose where to lunch.”

            “Can we?”

            Frérin was overjoyed. Lyn, on the other hand, looked a little annoyed from her foreign new porcelain doll.

            “Can I go, too, Ma? Please?”

            Ellen considered her oldest girl for a moment. There was really no logical reason for her to be left behind, and she was always fond of her big brothers, as they always have been her fierce protectors. Little Fíli and Kim, though, would soon get tired in a long tour.

            “If you’re able to obey your brothers’ orders…”

            The raven haired girl all but jumped from her seat, running to smack her a kiss on the cheek.

            “Aye, Ma, I will!”

            The inevitable came as expected in the voice of Fíli, fidgeting with the rim of his shirt with one hand while the other held Kim’s chubby hand; her puppy eyes where as pleading as his, even if her mouth was too busy with her thumb to say anything.

            “Can we go, too, Ma? We won’t be cranky, I promise!”

            The elf sent a questioning glance at her brother. Enjoying the chance to spoil his nephews and nieces, Wolfram sported a wide grin.

            “No problem! We can carry the little ones if they get tired.”

            “And I can go with the scooter and tow-wagon, so me or Knee can haul Kim.”

            Frérin offered, but Fíli kicked.

            “Why can’t I be hauled anymore, just Kim?”

            Knee was quick to calm his little brother, snuggling him to his chest, protectively.

            “Because you are too big for any wagon that’s not a miner’s wagon, _Fee_.”

            The blond looked up at his older brother with no small amount of adoration in his clear bluish eyes.

            “Too much ore for a toy-wagon, Knee?”

            “Too much, _Fee_ , far too much. And you have your own scooter now.”

            Kíli smiled at his brother-in-law, delighted with the arrangements his kids made almost by themselves.

            “So, it’s settled. We go attend the meeting with the North-easterlingas while Knee guides you and the rest of the _army_ through the kingdom, even if you won’t be able to see everything in one day. I deem it will be a nice tour for you as you’ve been here when it was all broken and dragon-filthy, and Knee knows so many beautiful places you would like to know, and I can be at ease that you won’t be lost following his steps.”

            Lily smiled at Kíli’s praise on his firstborn.

            “It is a lot of trust on this young Durin!”

            It was Kíli’s time to snuggle his son to his chest, proud.

            “Knee _never_ gets lost inside Erebor.”

            The boy was beaming, but his brother was completely able to turn his day into a disaster with little effort, whispering too loud to his new uncle.

            “Just don’t trust him when out of the front Gate, Knee is able to get lost going to Dale even asking directions!”

            Said Knee whacked his brother while looking another way.

            Iris smiled to herself. Just like her Little Brothers were one to the other, thanks the Valar. It made her miss even more the Fíli she knew, and to see how much Kíli had changed on behalf of duty. Everything changed, she had changed. She was going to marry, to be a respectful hobbit lady, like Kíli had become a king and a father with all what it meant. It made her wonder, what had become of the Mischievous Company of old?


	22. Thranduil’s Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was not afterlife, it was not hell. But it was not home either.

            Gwendolin woke up to a light touch to her arm, and prayed her nightmare had been just a nightmare. As usual, her prayers were not heeded, and when she opened her eyes a bunch of strangers where around her and the unexpected companions of the previous night. She and the guy had fallen asleep huddled together in each one’s embrace, and the dead black haired woman in their midst, held closely by the blonde one, who looked positively as one who had not closed her eyes for a moment during the night. The light touch belonged to a woman of a strange beauty, piercing eyes, dark auburn hair and… _pointy ears_?

            “Please let me help you, you must be stiff from sleeping so crooked.”

            The girl nodded, not knowing what to speak, but then took the waking hobbit’s arm and helped him to stand up.

            “He has some problem, he is almost unable to walk and to speak, can you help him?”

            The woman took the little one in her arms at once, calling someone in a strange melodic language; in no moment at all a rock star in stage garments took him and headed for a horse, jumping on it easily and starting off at once. Only then Gwendolin took a real look around her, to the people who arrived in the morning and the women who where there last night, and who killed the cretin nincompoop of an oaf that chased her.

            They all had pointy ears.

            And the repellent idiot moron lay dead as stone on the forest floor.

            As dead as the pale woman with pointy ears.

            Jesus Christ, there was a dead monster and a dead person there, and the dead person could have been herself if the pointy eared women hadn’t intervened.

            And now one of them was dead.

            Gwendolin felt sick.

            Guilty.

            Her fault, it was her fault.

            She could almost hear Sister Whoopi’s lecturing her how it was wrong to lead monsters to where other people were, as they could be killed and it would be her fault.

            Her fault, it was all her fault.

            It was not a side effect of the roast beef sandwich, even if the pointy eared persons wore weird rock star customs, even if her nightmare didn’t end, or had the plane crashed really bad and she was dead and all around her was her afterlife?

            What kind of afterlife had monsters chasing one down to panic? Had she been so sinful she went to hell?

            But hell wouldn’t have courageous people who fought monsters to save a stranger.

            And in afterlife there should not be death, as they all were supposed to be already dead, should it?

            It was not afterlife, it was not hell. But it was not home either.

            She sent a sidelong glance to the huge form that some pointy eared guys where tumbling to its side to retrieve the dead woman’s knives.

            “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore…”

            Still numb by the recent events and hard realization, she didn’t protest when one of the _pointies_ led her to a horse and helped her up behind a woman who held the reins and smiled reassuringly to her. Nor did she see when the silver haired woman was forcibly moved from the dead one’s side and both carried to ride to wherever they were taking them. Gwendolin held the woman in front of her a little tighter when the horse begun to move.

            “ _Definitely, Toto, not Kansas anymore..._ ”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Ferumbras woke from his slumber feeling more comfortable than he had in weeks; actually, since Elrond’s house he didn’t know what real sheets on a real bed were, and not being bounced like luggage by a running elf was a relief.

            Thinking about a running elf brought him the painful memory of last night’s fight, or what he deemed to be last night. The troll, the girl, the fight, Nellas… Nellas!

            A muffled cry brought an unknown elf immediately to his side, a dump cloth wiping his forehead, a soft voice soothing him.

            “Are you feeling better, Master Halfling?”

            He closed his eyes again, saddened by all he remembered from the night before; with an additional effort he was able to mumble.

            “Ared…?”

            “Lady Aredhel is nearby; she is… very sad, but her body is not hurt.”

            The elf let the cloth in a bowl on the side bed table and asked.

            “If you are thirsty and want some water, please blink twice; if not, blink once.”

            The hobbit blinked twice, and a teaspoon of water was held to his lips several times, until he blinked hard once.

            “My name is Halsir and I’m in charge of the infirmary along with Culdawen.” The elf leant closer to Ferumbras and spoke as if telling him a secret. “If you don’t see me around, look for a golden-haired one with a ridiculous green and orange gown that doesn’t match with anything you can imagine; if not, a yellow one that makes her look very sick; but don’t tell her I said anything of this to you, else she will dye my horse green, _again_ , and you would definitely _not_ like what it looks like.”

            Ferumbras was able to smile to the elf’s antics, glad that someone around was not feeling as miserable as he felt.

            “Are you hungry? I’ve been told halflings eat the whole day long if they can.”

            The hobbit thought about blinking twice, but instead tried to nod.

            “You are able to move your head somewhat? Good! I’ll give you some broth for it. Wait right here, don’t go anywhere without me!”

            As he chuckled inside at the crazy elf, he saw him stand up and leave the room; while he waited, Ferumbras begun to try his limbs for movement, and found out he was better than he supposed. His neck was not as stiff as it had been, his breathing was easier, and his arms were difficult to move, but not numb as his fingers; his legs, though, decided to make part of another world, and he could not feel them.

            Soon Halsir was back with a bowl of thin soup, and helped to prop him up with several pillows; that was when Ferumbras noticed his wrists and hands were bandaged and wet, and he was curious about what was going on there. He managed to speak with his broken voice, looking at the bandages intending to make clear what he meant.

            “Hands…?”

            The elf gave him teaspoon after teaspoon of soup as he gladly answered.

            “Oh, this is your medicine, or at least some of it. The palms and wrists have lots of running blood, so the blood can capture the medicine as it runs by; we mix some things that make it easier to get through the skin, but only the medicine goes in, not the blood out. You would have some patches of medicine on your feet weren’t you a halfling, but your soles are tougher than leather, so we placed them at the back of your knees. Culdawen wanted to place some patches on your throat, but I thought it would be better if we left the head free and the counter-venom to get to your brains only as it is diluted in your blood, as the brains have no muscles.”

            Ferumbras was almost dizzy from the amount of information and speed it was being delivered to him, and thought that elf was quite the opposite of what he ever heard about elves. Maybe he was just prejudiced, and not all elves were concealed and discrete. Or maybe the elf was just crazy.

            Some more teaspoons of broth and his shrunk stomach was full, and the hobbit weaved his head ‘no’.

            “Good; keep trying to move your muscles, they’ll need to learn how to move again. We will help you with this in some days, but for now just your own moving will be enough. Don’t overdo, though.”

            “Girl…?”

            “Oh, that human girl is your friend, too? Aredhel said she prompted out of the blue with a troll at her heels. I’ll fetch her to see you if the king is over with her.”

            Halsir spoke over his shoulder while heading to the doorway.

            “Beware of the ridiculously clad lady!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The king was not over with Gwendolin yet. She had been sent to him right after they reached the stone carved palace, but she was so confused her mumbled answers made not much sense, and he released her to take some food and rest before he summoned her again. Now she was standing before the wood carved throne and the green leaves crowned king.

            “I expect you to be more coherent now that you are rested, human.”

            She nodded, not feeling coherent at all, and wanting to ignore that he called her ‘ _human_ ’ as he did in the morning, like if _being human_ was not the rule.

            “You said you want to go back home; where is it? Why are you not there? What were you doing in my realm?”

            “I live in San Diego, California, but I was about to move to England; the plane I was in crashed, then that monster chased me and I fled; I don’t know why or how I came to _your_ _realm_ , in my head it was all United Kingdom here about; I was running in the forest and just stumbled into those two women and the little guy; I had no intention.”

            “You attracted a troll into my realm. It is a crime to bring evil into my lands.”

            “I had no intention! I never saw a beast like that, there are no _trolls_ or whatever you call it where I live! I don’t know how I came to you forest, ok? All I want is to go to London!”

            She gazed around to see if someone else had more sense than that one who was called Thrandwill or some stuff like that among the New Age band guys. Gwendolin decided they were not rock stars, albeit their long hair; their clothes reminded her more of Lorena MacKennith and the like.

            “Does anybody here know how to go to Heathrow airport?”

            If there were any fly, it would have been heard. Nope.

            “Where is this _United Kingdom_ you talk about, human? Who is its ruler?”

            “Where? In Europe, of course!” How could that jerk possibly don’t know where UK was? She was getting over the edge. “By the way, you know my name is Gwendolin, could you please stop calling me _human_ like if it were a differentiation? Or what do you think you are, an elf?”

            Thranduil tilted his head, amused for the first time in a long while.

            “Of course I’m an elf. What else could all of us here be? Halflings?”

            Gwendolin looked around to the New Age band guys again; besides the _pointed ears_ , long hair, strange clothes, tall bearing and overall eerie aura, and the fact that they had rescued her from a forest where a _troll_ had chased her, and that had been killed by a couple of equally pointed eared women using _throwing knives_ and a _spear_ … well, taking everything in account, plus the throne room they where in, it could not be considered very likely to belong to humans. As difficult as it was to grasp the meaning of it all, she had not only to acknowledge she was _not_ in England, but also that those people were _not_ human.

            “Elves. Not in England.”

            She mumbled under her breath, clenching and unclenching her hands, starting to panic again and tried desperately to reason out of it, running a hand over her forehead to wipe away a cold sweat that was forming and to take the fringe of her hair out of the way.

            “Come on, there are no elves in England, nor in California, nor in any place I know of; nor trolls, by the way; nor the halflings you mentioned. Now, everybody stop acting like you were in a David Yates, Peter Jackson or Andrew Adamson movie; if this is the test the studio intended for me, they’ve got it all wrong, I applied only to costume design, not to act in any way, no even as extra. I acknowledge the make-up staff and special effects crew are really great, but I’m _out_.”

            The elven king exchanged glances with his son and beckoned him closer, wrinkling his nose somewhat.

            “This talk reminds me of that acquainted of yours in the _dwarves’_ mountain, doesn’t it?”

            Legolas nodded and answered in similar low voice.

            “You mean our _ally_ , Queen Ellen Dwarvenheart of Erebor?”

            “Yes, the _turncoat_.”

            What his father said, plus something about her stance, her clothes and strange speech made something click in Legolas’ brain.

            “Captain Tauriel reported they were found not far from the spot from where the spiders used to come, before that outlandish wizard cast a spell from the outside. The girl might be out of the same world.”

            “Humpf.”

            It was not the kingliest sound he could make, but it matched his mood. To meddle with someone from that place was not one of his priorities, and only brought him unpleasant memories of being cheated in his own home. He turned to the stranger again.

            “You will be led to where you were found. From there you can go back to your place. No compensation will be required from you for having brought a troll to our land, as long as you keep away from here.”

            Gwendolin eyed him with eyes as big as saucers; not only the likelihood of being charged for having being chased by a troll _sounded_ absurd, as being left in the nothing she had been found by those people _was_ absurd.

            “Hey, buddy, king, whatever, come on, I may not be the smartest bug in the anthill, but dropping me in the middle of the forest where a _disgusting, dullard_ of a troll chased me to is not the fancy vacation I have in mind; not that I was about to spend any kind of vacation hereabouts, but no, I won’t go back to the place that _dumb oaf_ fell. What if there are more of them? No, I won’t go back there, no way!”

            She crossed her arms in front of her and steadied her feet on the ground. Things were absurd enough without her throwing herself into any kind of adventure like wandering alone in an unknown forest.

            “You talk like if you had an option.”

            “No, I don’t have, but dropping me in the forest is _not_ an option!”

            If humans were more subtle, Thranduil would enjoy teasing the blonde for a while, but she was boring enough for him to be tired already, albeit her legs showing under her far too short dress that almost reached her knees. He let his gaze run through her improper clothing, used that he was to study his pray whenever a female passed before his eyes. The light cotton blue dress has a tall neck, with a Juliet buttoned sleeve that concealed her arms to the wrist, contrasting with the shortness of the skirt. Apart from her slender and pale legs, boring as any human could be. Actually, he was getting bored of so many little things lately, that he was prone to let things be more and more dealt by his son. Weren’t the boy too young and reckless, he would almost be willing to let him take more charge of the realm’s issues, but no, two-thousand three-hundred and some was too young yet. But, as he was so fond of that _not really an elf_ of Erebor, maybe he could deal with that nuisance too. It would only be fair. He beckoned his son again, with a funny idea in his mind.

            “Legolas, considering your _acquaintanceship_ with Erebor’s folk, it might be fit to send them this… Gwendolin Browne for them to deal with.”

            Said Gwendolin looked at the blond elf with wide eyes. Legolas? A real elf named Legolas? Son of a king in a forest? Nah, it was too much a coincidence. She tried and failed to suppress a chuckle, making royal father and son look questioningly at her.

            “May we know the reason of your mirth?”

            “Legolas? Your name is Legolas?”

            The blond one just nodded, raising a brow.

            “Ok, next you’ll tell me your best friend is Gimli the dwarf, right?”

            Thranduil gazed daggers to his son, who stood up for himself.

            “It is not that I _know_ him that anyone can call us _best friends_ , father!”

            The human looked at their interaction, uncomfortable, and thought it was better to shut up about whatever she saw in those movies. But it was too late, and she tried her best to avoid the conflict she saw rising.

            “What do you know about my son’s friendships, human?”

            She diverted.

            “Oh, come on, this _human_ talk again? And, it is not that he _knows_ a dwarf that there is something wrong with it, ok?”

            The king was getting distressed by the girl, now. A nuisance, she was.

            “If you are so fond of _dwarves_ , then the best solution will surely be to send you to them.” The tall silver-haired elf rose from his throne. “Legolas, I have been informed you have plans to ride to Erebor soon. Take her along and deliver her to your… _ally_.”

            “ _Our_ ally, father. And you should have plans to ride there too, as the invitation for the wedding was sent in your name.”

            “Humpf.”

            “You can’t deny our eastern borders are safer since they reclaimed the mountain.”

            “Humpf.”

            “And that Queen Ellen’s intervention with the outsider wizard provided a lessening of our problems with the spiders.”

            “Humpf.”

            “And that since the trade agreements King Kíli signed with you, the level of the treasure room has been rising.”

            “Well...”

            “And that Bilbo Baggins gave you a kingly gift in the emeralds of Girion.”

            The memory of the magnificent set of emeralds in a splendidly designed necklace brought a slight smile to Thranduil’s lips.

            “And is this the halfling who is going to get married?”

            Gwendolin almost jumped at the name she heard. No, too much coincidence to be coincidence at all. But she thought the Ringbearer of the movie trilogy was Bilbo’s nephew, not his son; she didn’t remember him having a wife.

            Legolas nodded at his father.

            “Then, take a barrel of whatever you find fit as a wedding gift.”

            “Whatever?”

            “Whatever. What matters is not the content, but the barrel. Make it be a barrel of very high quality, mind you.”

            The king turned back to the human girl.

            “You will be led to Erebor, where dwells someone who might know about the place you came from, if you deem it more comfortable than to be sent back to the place in the forest where you were found.”

            Gwendolin thought about her options for almost… half a second.

            “Anything will be more comfortable than to go back to where that despicable abhorrent dipstick chased me!”


	23. The Mightiest Dwarven Kingdom in Middle-Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t see this last time I was here; how could I have missed this… this marvel?”  
>  “This site was badly damaged when of the Retake, cousin Lily, Father told me it was not even accessible then; Fíli here was a newborn when the reconstruction was finished.” Young Thorin was obviously proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Age summary:  
> Crîck: Daughter of Rärc; Raven age 15; H.A. 22  
> Dís: Daughter of Thráin, Kíli's mother; D.A. 209;  
> Ellen: Sister of Wolfram, aunt of Lily and Iris, wife of Kíli; E.A. adult; H.A. 35  
> Fíli: Fourth child of Kíli, his third son; D.A. 10; H.A. 7  
> Fláfir: Foreman in one of the forges; D.A. 183;  
> Frérin: Second son of Kíli; D.A. 21; H.A. 12  
> Iris: Daughter of Wolfram, sister of Lily, niece of Ellen, bethroted to Bilbo; Ho.A. 34; H.A. 20  
> Kim: Fifth child of Kíli, his second daughter; D.A. 4; H.A. 3  
> Lily: Daughter of Wolfram, sister of Iris, niece of Ellen; D.A. 74; H.A. 25  
> Lyn: Third child of Kíli, his first daughter; D.A. 15; H.A. 10  
> Rärc: Son or Röac; Raven age 35; H.A. 40  
> Tärk: Second in command to Röac; Raven age 30; H.A. 32  
> Thorin "Knee": Firstborn son of Kíli and Ellen; D.A. 26; H.A. 14  
> Wolfram: Brother of Ellen and father of Lily and Iris; ; H.A. 49

            Ellen explained to Lily and Wolfram how to use and to adjust the carrying sling for Kim if needed, as even if she would be carted behind Frérin’s scooter it was well possible that she would get tired, bored and/or sleepy enough to have to be carried instead of carted. Dís provided a small backpack with water and small snacks, even if they would be lunching somewhere – if it were left to Dís, she would have half Erebor as fat as Bombur, and the other half even fatter. It was not a simple kink on feeding her own, it was a result of the many years of hardship her people struggled to overcome.

            “Don’t forget we have a banquet tonight, I must have all of you bathed and presentable before sunset. Knee, any expense needed you mark with your seal and the Treasure will pay out in due time, don’t let people give you things that are they job to sell, it is not fair. I don’t know how much you’ll be able to see today, but anyway, be careful in the mines and in the forges, always mind the foreman in charge, and we can leave the stables and other outings for another day for sure.”

            “Aunty, enough!” Iris complained. “I’m almost hearing you telling me to take my umbrella and raincoat just to get to the bakery and back!”

            “Yep, and the time I told you this and you didn’t hear me, you came home drenched.”

            Dispatched Frérin got wide eyed at the implications and looked down at his hobbit cousin (still feeling it unnerving to know an adult that was smaller than him, besides his uncle Balin).

            “So is it true that she doesn’t do it just to us?”

            The Earthlings laughed, and his new uncle made it clear.

            “Not only it is not just to you, but she does it even to me, Frérin, whenever she is able to.”

            The youngling looked up at the Green Wizard (who was not minimally at easy with the title, by the way) with his mouth agape and then back at his older brother.

            “All right, Knee, I owe you a dozen silver beads.”

            “I _told_ you, you didn’t believe.” Was the matter-of-factly answer.

            Lily was amused by the brothers’ exchange.

            “What did you bet?”

            “That Ma is this way to anyone in family, not just at us. _Fré_ was sure she is this way just to annoy us.”

            Wolfram noticed that Lily was laughing more in the last twenty-four hours than she had in the last four years, and he was glad about it.

            “So, let us see this mighty kingdom?”

            “Aye!”

            The dwarflings – or rather, _dwelflings_ – ran out of home as they used to, weaving hands and shouting greetings to the wards at the doors, who made their best to pretend to be serious – but how could they be serious to little Kim shaking her chubby hand and blowing kisses to them from her tow-cart? To be the ward of the king’s dwellings was an honorable and envied position, for many reasons.

            First, because it was a position filled only by dwarves acknowledged as experienced in warfare and skilled in more than fighting, but also in intelligence – in the current setting, they answered directly both to Dwalin and Nori, even if any regular dwarf in the realm didn’t know Nori was responsible for more than to just entertain foreign delegations in order to break them in into Erebor’s uses and customs to make it easier to trade and negotiate. The ward applicant’s loyalty and astuteness was also put to test more than once and proved true, usually in situations when said applicant didn’t have a clue that he was being observed – as a matter of fact, they didn’t even _know_ they were considered applicants. So it was that many a weather battered dwarf that some would think fit to be a King’s Ward was not chosen for that position.

            Then, they work was not exhaustive, albeit crowned with the responsibility over the king’s family well-being. So, it was not uncommon for older dwarves to assume that position even if younger ones wished to hold their axes in front of that door. It didn’t mean young ones were left behind when any change in the pool of wards was needed, but that no graybeard was counted as out of the business.

            At last but not at least, any ward had to be a person before a role, so he could acknowledge the persons inside that dwelling instead of the roles those persons performed. Seemingly stupid, but quite simple. Because the dwellers of that house had to know those wards like they knew their best friends, and the wards had to know their protected ones to the last, most of all the children. Because the children where the future of the kingdom, and being children they where vulnerable, so they had to be known in order to be protected; if anything else, how to know if a dwarfling was being harassed if you didn’t know his usual behavior?

            So, the wards’ almost imperceptible nod was the acknowledgement that those children and younglings were perfectly in order, behaving exactly the way it was expected: Knee leading the troop, Lyn being nice to the visitors, Fíli making his best to keep up with the grown-up ones and Frérin bestowing his care in carting his confident little sister. When those were out of the ostensive wards’ sight, here and there, someone’s else eyes would check on them, in the shadows, allowing them room to breath and to have their share of independence, but they were too precious a treasure for Kíli to allow to risk of any harm to come upon them.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            They had walked about half an hour, the visitors delighted to see the city clean and ringing with life, even if they were still in the same level and had seen not much more than dwellings and some commerce, mostly of food. The younglings had a story to fulfil every corner they turned, and the Earthlings’ curiosity was willingly satisfied. It was recurrent for them to be greeted by the citizens, in varied degrees of formality and cheerfulness.

            First stop was at what could only be called a dainty shop and Wolfram suspected the kids’ lunch was about to be spoiled, but then Ellen had spoiled his daughters times enough for him to really feel sorry for it. He was also curious to see how his eldest nephew would manage the multiple wishes of his siblings, as he deemed Knee was not much more than just reaching his adolescence.

            “No, _Fee_ , you can’t take all these caramels, the ants will trail you home and the Mountain will become an anthill, take something that’s not pure sugar too; _Fré_ , will you take some liquorice drops for me while I get Kim’s _raven feathers_? Just a handful, please. Uncle, what do you like? Mother likes sweetmeat, mostly raisins and cider, but I don’t know if wizards like the same things elves do.”

            “I like them too, but I’m still amazed to all the options to choose. What are the _raven feathers_ you mentioned?”

            “It is a chewable sweet that is coloured dark blue because of the myrtle, and Mister Revin molds them like feathers to make it funny; Kim loves them.”

            The girls were enthralled by the candies, and Iris made a choice on something molded like tiny apples. Lyn helped her to reach the pot on the high shelf and to scoop some into a pack, even if she was not much taller than her little cousin. Mister Revin weighted them and marked it on the growing list.

            “Do you want one of these, Fíli?”

            Iris was positively favoring the namesake of her deceased Little Brother since they arrived, but this time she missed the target.

            “Ugh! I don’t do apples!”

            Fíli’s disgust was evident in his scowl, and Iris felt confused. Lyn came to her aid.

            “ _Fee_ doesn’t stand apples, never did. First time Ma tried to give him apple pap he retched all over her, and never after was it possible to give him anything with apples. Sometimes he gets sick jut on its smell.”

            Iris thought it interesting in a medical point of view; was it an allergy? A kind of intolerance? She stored it inside her head for future reference while taking Fíli’s hand in hers and showing him the other fruit candies.

            “And another kind of fruit, dear? I see little oranges, and pears, and…”

            “And minty!”

            “Mint?”

            “Aye, minty!”

            The hobbit lass looked at a pot with green candies delicately molded like mint leaves.

            “Are these the ones you like?”

            “Aye, beside the caramels Knee begrudges me!”

            Iris laughed and bent down to whisper in the dwelfling’s ear.

            “I’ll take some caramels for you beside the candies I took for me, ok?”

            The dwelfling shook his head in merry agreement, liking the idea of being helped to trick his brother.

            When the shopping was over, Mister Revin handled Knee a small piece of parchment with all items and weights and a sum at the end, or at least that was what Wolfram thought, as he was not completely fluent in Anghertas writing. The boy checked the bill, rubricated it and pressed a signet he had in one of his rings to a translucent wax dropped on the sum. Bill paid, on they went.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Not far ahead they reached a place where a wide chasm let them look at other levels, reachable by stairs all around the vertical tunnel. In its very middle a rough stone pillar was left, showing rivulets of gold and studded with many coloured gems, still encrusted in the stone they were born, only the outcropped part of them having being lapidated or polished. Both gold and gems reflected every single light they captured, and torches were attached to the sides of the shaft in each level, making it glitter like stars. Lily leant on the handrail to take a better look, completely enthralled, unable to keep her eyes away from it.

            “I didn’t see this last time I was here; how could I have missed this… this marvel?”

            “This site was badly damaged when of the Retake, cousin Lily, Father told me it was not even accessible then; Fíli here was a newborn when the reconstruction was finished.” Young Thorin was obviously proud. “The handrails were added to the original project for safety, but they can be dropped with a passworded command only the security staff know, so we can have the realm ready to receive any invasion in less than half an hour.” They rounded the shaft and headed to a staircase leading up. Fíli, Lyn and Frérin took their scooters to carry them up and Wolfram settled Kim in his lap with the sling for them to win over the steps. “The same handrail system has been made everywhere, it is very important because we have so many children in the realm.”

            “And because we receive visitors of other peoples who ain’t used or able to walk on narrow ledges like we are, and it would be improper to put visitors at risk of falling.” Lyn added her contribution. “Uncle Balin always says we must treat allies and commerce partners right, because if one of them falls in the deeps, our reputation will fall with them.”

            “Don’t heed her, Uncle, Lyn is Uncle Balin’s green raven.”

            Wolfram eyes Frérin strangely for the definition whilst said Lyn slapped her brother where she reached.

            “What do you mean by ‘ _green raven_ ’?”

            “Oh, I thought you would know; Mother told that in your world there is a green bird that repeats what people say; as the only bird who speaks here are the ravens, we assumed they should be some kind of green ravens, then.”

            “ _We_ , who, birdbrain?”

            Knee complained and Lily facepalmed.

            “Durin’s beard, Frérin, the birds you are talking about are _parrots_!”

            “Aye, _that_ was the name!”

            “I’m not a _parrot_ , you birdbrain!”

            “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t repeat the insult Knee just threw at me!”

            “This is because I _avoid_ insult wars.”

            “This is because you _don’t know_ many insults.”

            “Anyway, I’m _not_ Uncle Balin’s parrot!”

            “If you weren’t you wouldn’t repeat _everything_ he says.”

            “I don’t repeat, I just pay attention to what he says, unlike _certain_ Durin’s heirs who like to forget they will have duties to the realm in the future!”

            “Hey, can you two stop this before you start a civil war?” Knee fumed. “Think of what a _good_ impression you are making on our relatives, will you?”

            Said relatives laughed at their bickering, Lily thinking it just too cute for the oldest boy to try to act that mature. In a way, he reminded her of how Thorin Oakenshield would scold his nephews, with a bit of Dori. Having had her times with her own sister, she knew siblings can really be annoying sometimes, and she guessed rightly that what they saw was just a sample of their daily business.

            Scooters on the level floor again, Kim refused to get down of the comfortable sling and merrily talked to her new ‘ _unca_ ’ while stuffing a sweet into her mouth, of which she left a bit showing out of her lips.

            “Look, _Unca_ , _Kee eated_ birdie!”

            “Yummy, your bird looks delicious! Will you give me some of it to taste?”

            The toddler eyes the wizard warily, frowning, and then back at her ‘raven feathers’ candies.

            “No birdie, just candy. _Kee eated_ candy.”

            She seriously tried to explain as to talk him out of the idea of having one of her myrtle sweets. He chuckled and joked on.

            “All right, dear I don’t want your candy, but if you ever find true raven feathers, save one for me to eat it, dealt?”

            The little one nodded, happy, and stuffed her mouth with more sweets. They headed for a very large hall where several couples or groups trained every kind of fighting skill one could imagine. There were archers stuffing dummies with arrows like pincushions, swordsmen parrying so their weapons sent sparkles all around them, axe-wielders and hammer-wielders training their aim and building their muscles, while others directed those training ones, some with shouts and some, amazingly, in complete silence. Lily noticed them and asked their guide.

            “Why are those coachers not speaking to their apprentices, Thorin? Are they supposed to know what they have to do only with a wry look?”

            The youngling smiled.

            “No! The coach is telling them exactly what he wants from them, and, if you don’t know what they’re doing, then it means its working.”

            “Ok, I realize I’m ‘ _clueless mode_ ’ on. Now you explain it to me, please?”

            He bowed his head slightly, and answered, proud to be the one his parents confided to guide the visitors in the realm.

            “They are a special army branch developed by Mister Bifur. Not all of them have hearing or talking disabilities, albeit some of them do, but all of them lined themselves up to be the Silent Army of Erebor.”

            “And what does it mean?”

            “They are trained to fight in silence, using Iglishmêk and some codes only they know. Using Iglishmêk allows them to communicate even to other dwarven armies in silence, and their secret codes make them fight in a… special way I’m not able to explain. Mister Bifur says that, as they forego usual words when fighting, it allows them to hear unspoken words too. I don’t understand it, I just know it works.”

            “And when they fight in the dark? At night, it would not be so easy to see each others’ signs in Iglishmêk.”

            “As I said, I don’t understand. Only the members of the Silent Army know.”

            Fíli tugged Knee’s tunic brim, and the youngling turned down to assist his brother.

            “Knee, Uncle Dwalin’s not here, can we go somewhere else?”

            “We must ask our visitors, _Fee_ , if they want to see something else right now.”

            The blond one immediately turned to Lily.

            “Can we go, Aunty? It is boring here without Uncle Dwalin, just looking!”

            The dwarven woman eyed them with big eyes.

            “What? Dwalin allows you little one to do anything more than just to look?”

            Fíli eyed Knee, who pretended to examine a schedule on the wall, twisting his fingers behind his back.

            “Aah, when Ma is not close, then…”

            “ _Fee_!” Lyn cried.

            “What?”

            “Just keep your little mouth to drink your milk, will you?”

            “Hey, may we all get a little calmer, may we?” The tall man tried to coax the younger ones with a smile. “No one here wants a fight on what you are doing or not, and I suppose anything different from what your parents determined must be settled with them, not with us. All right?”

            “Aye, Uncle!”

            The unison answer was enough for the visitors to know that kind of conversation had taken place before, probably more than once,  And, sure, it was not reasonable to hold the weight of having the younger kids training this or that way without knowing their parents’ decisions, and the ‘whys’ and ‘becauses’ of everyone involved.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Next stop, after innumerable twists and turns and stairs that made the visitors lose their notion of place completely, was at the forge level main dining hall, as they were already close to noon time. The older boys explained each level had its own main kitchen and dinning hall, where the workers could have their meal, or they could chose to lunch at any restaurant nearby, or to bring their lunch from home. Being in the phase of growth spurt, or its equivalent in dwarven development, the boys loved the meaty and consistent lunch served at the forgers’ level, where they could have all the meat and carb they could dream to have, and large jars of fruit juice meant to quench the thirst of the one who worked hard close to the fires. Some vegetables were also available, and fruits for dessert, but more as a reminder that one could have them if wished instead of cakes and puddings, being seldom consumed if not out of medical orders. The need of fibber and vitamins was almost inexistent in dwarven metabolism, who could obtain everything they needed from a good amount of meat and potatoes, for example.

            The dwelflings, nevertheless, seemed to be fine with every kind of food, and ate both the roast with risotto and the vegetables pie, finishing their lunch with a tasty slice of apple dumpling (except for Fíli, who settled for a pudding) and a pear to go. Wolfram wondered where all that food placed itself inside those kids. Said kids began to dispute where they should go next, to the point he couldn’t figure out who said what.

            “Now, we can see the forges, and then the mines and the market, what do you think?”

            “No, we see the forges, then the lapidary, and then the market.”

            “We can see the market, and the fountains, and the armory.”

            “Aye, _a’mory_! _A’mory_ has Bifur!”

            Even Kim had her say in the matter, clapping her hands in anticipation.

            “But we are close to the forges, why should we miss the trip?”

            “Then the forges, the mines, and the armory.”

            “The mines are too far, we would not come back in time for the banquet if we make everything.”

            “The forges, the old main shaft, and the armory.”

            “Aye, the old main shaft, they will love it!”

            “But what about the market and the fountains and the lapidary?”

            “We can make it tomorrow, can’t we?”

            “Can we, _Unca_?”

            The tall man scratched his head, in doubt.

            “I suppose, but I don’t know what your mother has planned. And we must see what your parents will allow, anyway.”

            A little deaf by the cheerful kids’ cries of excitement, they headed to one of the forges, seemingly one the older ones were already acquainted. In the first chamber they were given large glasses that fenced most of their faces, small stumps of cork wrapped in cotton fabric and Iris was urged to put on heavy boots.

            “But shoes hurt my feet!”

            “Any spark that lands on your hairy feet will hurt you even more, Milady Halfling.” Fláfir, the foreman, was firm in his position. “And any weapon or tool that may fall on them will do much more damage than a spark.”

            Cursing under her breath, the hobbit girl agreed to put on the boots, but looked at the cork stumps curiously.

            “What are these meant for?”

            “These are hearing protectors. Since we begun to use them, the rate of workers with hearing disabilities has dropped astoundingly.” Fláfir was obviously proud. “As have the rates of eye injuries since we began to use the protective glasses.”

            As they entered the work place, the heat of the fires hit them like a punch in the face. They didn’t get very close to the fires, but to see the dwarves at work with hammer on anvil it was impossible not to get to the hotter part of the hall. Wolfram was impressed.

            “This is fantastic! I never dreamt of seeing a real dwarven forge at work, and completely had no idea that one day I would see dwarven workers using PPEs *.” He turned to the foreman. “What do you make the goggles, though? If you have no plastic, they must be out of glass, and, thus, breakable.”

            “I don’t know what is this ‘ _plastic_ ’ you mentioned, Mister Wolfram, but I don’t know if you know to what fine film gold can be made. The glass is coated with this gold film, thin enough for the person to look through, but strong enough to keep glass shards from trespassing it if the glass breaks. We had to work hard to find the right way to make them, but our development team is great.”

            “I had an idea, space suits’ helmets have a gold coat to prevent the sun's harmful rays.”

            “What are _space suits_?”

            “Ahmm, a suit an astronaut uses to get out of his spaceship and...”

            “No, no, I don’t want to know what a space suit is anymore!”

            The human wizard laughed at Fláfir’s flinch to his explanation; the dwarf had gone some of it already, as Ellen tried to explain some thingsabout her former world; he just didn’t quit the habit of asking what things were, but quickly reminded himself that it could be confusing enough for him to give up.

            As they continued their tour in the forges, Kim stuck a thumb in her mouth and quickly fell asleep in her uncle’s lap, held by the sling she was used to be carried in and put to sleep. Fíli was getting grumpy for not being allowed to touch _nothing_ , and Lyn was getting bored. So, they concluded the ramble when the foreigners glimpsed the concept that that was only _one_ of the many forges that overspread in that level of the mountain.

            When at last they were at the antechamber getting rid of the PPEs, Lily suggested them to shorten the tour for the day, as they still had to go back home and prepare themselves for the banquet. There was a general complain amongst the three older children.

            “But you have seen _nothing_ yet, cousin!”

            “Maybe, Lyn, but I think we won’t be able to see enough even if we spend the whole moon walking around.”

            “But, but you must _see_ , you _must_ see, from the old main shaft you can see the whole vault of the entrance of the kingdom, and the market is over there to be seen, you have never seen so many beautiful things in just one single place, and then the fountains, they…”

            “…they spring into the air like they had life, and they sparkle with the light that the mirrors send them, and the very air around them seems to have a _light_ of its own, and the new Temple was carved just behind it, and it is amazingly large and finely carved and many pillared and truly _gold-roofed_ , and the mines, the mines…”

            “… and then the _mines_ , the mines bring forth every kind of ore and of stone and of precious gems you can imagine, and the goldsmiths, they are able to make _anything_ you can wish for, and…”

            “And I am sure we won’t be able to see all of this in half an afternoon!”

            The three ones stopped their listing of marvels at the rational observation from their uncle. Swallowing hard, Knee was the one to settle things.

            “Right. One cannot expect to show the mightiest dwarven kingdom of Middle-Earth in just one day.”  He slumped his shoulders in defeat, trying not to pout. “But you got the idea.”

            The outsiders laughed lightly at their enthusiasm, agreeing. Iris conceded.

            “Maybe we have time to see just one more place before heading home? Preferably a place that is already in the same direction?”

            Knee swept his fingers along the place where a moustache would be in the future, sorting his options.

            “Aye. The armoury, then. It is in the same level as the training halls, just a little west of it, and we can get down to our dwelling level by the spiral staircase that leads to the main healing house.” He exchanged glances with Frérin and the younger one took Fíli’s scooter, leaving his own larger one for his brother. “Come, Fíli, lets go turtles.”

            “Aye, turtles!”

            Finally the little blond smiled again after getting tired from the forge trip, clambering to Knee’s back and making himself comfortable gripping tightly on his shoulders and crossing his legs around his brother’s hips. Now the earthlings understood why that one had chosen not to get a scooter for himself when they started the tour. Brothers take care of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * PPE - Personal Protective Equipment


	24. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, there you are!” He approached them with fast steps and greeted them with a hand to his chest and a slight bow of his head. “Prince Legolas, Milady.”  
>  “Halsir.” Legolas acknowledged the newcomer with a similar gesture. “I was heading to your healing halls to see Lady Aredhel. How is she faring?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Phrases in [brackets] are in elvish.

            Bilbo yawned and stretched his limbs after one more night sleeping on the forest floor, complaining to himself that he was not a youngling anymore, not even the respectable bachelor he was when he ran away from his hole with not even a handkerchief in his pocket. It was not the first time he wondered if it was the right thing to do to Iris, to make that young sprite of a girl to spend the rest of her life beside a decomposing senior. Not that he _felt_ that senior, and it was usual for him to be deemed younger than he was, only some fine lines marking his eyes when he smiled and a streak or two of gray in his unruly hair, to the point that some people (Lobelia, namely) thought it unfair for him to be wealthy, healthy, owner of a comfortable hole, and seemingly able to cheat ageing.

            Since Beorn’s house the journey returned to its former pattern, with food and riding and rest at a night camp fire, but something was missing. The jokes and laughter that were the rule in the first months of their travel had been replaced by an uneasy silence full of worry. They had no means to know about their companions, and Bilbo felt terribly responsible for Ferumbras’ accident. He would never forgive himself if his cousin didn’t make out of the journey unscathed. Obviously, the Thain would be most unpleased, too, to say the least.

            Only the bear of a man that accompanied them seemed indifferent to their worries, making no effort to hasten their pace nor to comply with their uneasiness. Beorn walked amongst the horses and ponies talking in such a way that sometimes it was hard to know if he was talking to the elves and hobbits or to the horses themselves.

            Actually, it was not only Beorn who was not completely abashed by the worries about the trio that headed through the elven path, and Bilbo thought it was getting time for him to have a say on the issue. He took a honey cake from the morning provisions and walked to his cousins.

            “Good morning, dearest. Plotting something interesting for today?”

            The pair of them looked up at him, mischievously, not even trying to hide their amusement.

            “Nothing different from what we have been plotting the last couple of weeks, uncle!”

            Bilbo looked at the couple that was still asleep close to them, her curls dishevelled on his chest, his arms protectively wrapped around her waist. Taking a deep breath, he realised it could have been himself and Iris all those years ago; but then, it was time for him to play Ellen’s part in this case. It was not that he knew how it was to be in love that he would allow any of his younger cousins to get into trouble because of disregarding certain behavior rules.

            “Dudo Baggins and Pearl Beryl Took; if you are so fond of putting Drogo and Primula together, which I think is very reasonable, the it is only fair that you both are named their chaperones. Any trouble coming out of their relationship from now on will be put into your account, if you take my meaning.”

            “Hey! How can we be named chaperones if they didn’t even assume they are courting?”

            Bilbo tilted his head, wringing his brain for a solution.

            “So then, Dudo, your first task as chaperone is to make them declare to be courting.”

            “Wha-at?”

            “I cannot possibly name you both as their chaperones if they don’t assume they are courting. So, do your part!”

            “Bilbo, they are as blind as a cave mole!” Beryl complained. “What do you think we are doing since the Pass?”

            “And yet before, at least for my part!” Countered Dudo.

            “Are you telling me those two are sleeping wrapped one around the other _that way_ and have no clue that they are together?”

            “Well…”

            Just then Bilbo noticed Drogo wink one eye at him and put a finger on his own lips.

            “So.” Bilbo heaved a sigh when Beorn came close by with a big grin in his face and a black squirrel perched on his shoulder. “We’ll talk about it later.”

            “We have some good news here, _Bunny_!”

           

ooo000ooo

 

            Legolas – _Legolas_! – was guiding Gwendolin back to the chambers where she had been left to rest after the morning meeting with the king and spoke lightly to her as they walked the stone corridors, dimly lit by torches. The girl’s mind was swirling at the thought that a _real_ Legolas was talking to her and that she would go to a _real_ Erebor where a _real_ Bilbo Baggins was going to get married. Not that she believed that _that_ Legolas was _the_ Legolas, despite the evidences, but it was _a_ Legolas nonetheless. And he knew _a_ Gimli, even if he was not his best friend and it made clear he was not _the_ Gimli. Something funny she could tell Sister Whoopi when she got back to San Diego. The inquisitive tone in his voice brought her back to her feet.

            “Sorry, I was distracted.”

            “I asked if you are used to riding horseback, as we will travel to Erebor on horse. If you are somewhat related to Queen Ellen’s world, you may have to have some riding classes before we go, as she told me she never rode a horse before she came to Middle-Earth.”

            Gwendolin smiled at Legolas, thinking how he was similar to his namesake in the movies and different from his actual father.

            “I love to ride! One of the nuns – the women who raised me – had a brother who worked as manager of a stable for horses, and he used to take me to learn to ride once in a while. I always loved horses, and when it became clear that I was a _permanent resident_ in the orphanage, Sister Amanda took me with her whenever she went to her brother.”  The nice memory of learning to ride was overrun by the memory of never having a true family, and she got quiet again, uncomfortable. The elf or took no notice, else ignored her somewhat troubled look for the sake of privacy.

            “We will travel when the halfling Ferumbras has recovered from his poisoning; it can take the quarter of a moon or a little more. If there is anything you wish to do in the meanwhile, or anything that you need, just ask.”

            His last words were accompanied by a discreet glance at her bare legs, but he quickly avoided them to look back at the girl’s gray blue eyes. But she got the clue.

            “Mister Legolas, I don’t know if my handbag was found in the place your people found us, but if it was, I would like to have it, because I have some spare clothes that I deem more fitting for your father’s palace; and, as it looks like I’ll have to spend some days longer than my clothes can handle, if it could be spared me some fabric I could sew some clothes that would not be scandalizing, if you take my meaning, I have my sewing stuff with me, as I was going to the studio, I have even a Mini-Singer, it can be useful even if I’d better use an industrial one, with overlock, but I think you don’t have electricity here.”

            The blond elf laughed.

            “Most definitely, you belong to Ellen’s world. If not, from where else could come someone who talks so weirdly?”

            She felt her head light again. That talk about _other world_ – and _her_ world being the _other_ one – still made her dizzy.

            “I don’t know about this worlds stuff, but if this Ellen you mention can help me to go home, I’ll really appreciate it. I feel… so lost.”

            He landed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, making her look at him.

            “I’ll see if your handbag was found, and that the fabric you’d like be provided. I’m going to see Lady Aredhel and the halfling in the infirmary now, if you want to rest I’ll lead you to your room.”

            Half of her wanted to sleep until the world ended just to see if she could wake up from her nightmare, but the other half wanted to see her rescuer and the little guy. Her indecision was solved when another elf came up the corridor with a bright smile in his face.

            “Ah, there you are!” He approached them with fast steps and greeted them with a hand to his chest and a slight bow of his head. “Prince Legolas, Milady.”

            “Halsir.” Legolas acknowledged the newcomer with a similar gesture. “I was heading to your healing halls to see Lady Aredhel. How is she faring?”

            “Still unconscious, for her own good. She was trashing so hard we had to bind her to her cot else she would fall off, so I knocked her out with a stronger potion.”

            “She will be mad at you when she wakes up, you know.”

            “Only if you tell her it was me!”

            Legolas half smiled at the healer.

            “That is still to be seen.”

            “May I have the girl for a while?” Legolas shot him a bewildered look at the disjointed phrase. “I mean, to take her to the healing house. The halfling asks for her.”

            “Oh, so. Sure, if Lady Gwendolin is willing.”

            The blond elf turned to her with an inquisitive look. She was glad the decision was made for her, if the _halfling_ wanted to see her, then she would see him right now. The little guy was less unsettling than the elven king anyway, and she was bored of being alone.

            “I’ll go, sir. I want to see the little one, and the woman, if it’s ok. I… I’m sorry about what happened, I’m really so sorry, and I must thank her for saving my life.”

            Halsir looked at the human with curious eyes.

            “When she wakes up and is able to be seen by you, I’ll allow you to see her. But don’t expect her to be any gentle or receptive to your gratitude. She just lost too much, it is too hard on her.” He looked back at the prince. “Your presence will be welcome, though. I guess she will remember you, and it may have a calming effect on her.” They started to walk down the corridor when the healer mumbled to himself. “Or not.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Ferumbras woke up to the sound of steps in his infirmary room and opened his eyes to meet the gray blue ones of the blonde woman that ran unto them in the forest with a charging troll chasing her. The elf Halsir was right behind her, with the contented face of who found what he was looking for.

            “Here, Master Halfling, I found Lady Gwendolin for you. How are you feeling now?”

            The hobbit flexed his fingers and tried to move his head, and it was clear it getting easier; even his legs gave some signal, though he wasn’t sure if he would be able to walk on his own any soon. He heaved a deep breath, feeling relieved that it was possible.

            “Better.” His voice sounded better, too, and easier to talk than just a couple of hours before. “Medicine works.”

            “Yes, that’s the magic of it. You use the right medicine, and it _works_!”

            Gwendolin took a step closer to the cot and reached a hand to stroke the bandaged hand of the sick one.

            “I’m glad you are feeling better. I don’t know what left you in that state, but then I don’t know even why I’m here, either.”

            “Then you weren’t traveling together?” Asked the healer, and the girl turned to him.

            “No; I met them in the forest while I was running away from a lousy dumbheaded and ghastly oaf of a _troll_.” She eyed the elf. “Is it true? It was really a troll? I still find it hard to believe there really exist trolls anywhere. Or elves, by the way.” Halsir chuckled, amused, and the human rambled on, feeling the urge to spill out what she felt, and with those two, the _halfling_ she met the night before and the _elf_ she met an hour ago, she felt safe to open her heart. “It is all so weird, but I’m seeing you both here, I saw the troll, it is difficult to deny what I’m seeing with my waking eyes, or what I believe are waking eyes; but no dream or hallucination takes this long, does it, doc?”

            The healer put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

            “Don’t worry; strange things happen all the time, and someday you will find the answer why, _if_ it is meant for you to know the answer. In the meanwhile, live the life that was given to you, the best you can.”

            She shook her head, looking down.

            “Now that I lost my appointment to get that job in the studio, maybe it’s the best I can do.”

            Gwendolin felt a light squeeze on her hand, and looked back at the hobbit.

            “Thank you.”

            “What for?”

            “For trying… help.”

            His words were slow, but clearer than before, and he was glad for it. The human girl looked at him forlornly.

            “I’ve done nothing, little fellow. The women just made me to hide in the same tree roots as you, what else was I supposed to do?”

            “You help… reach Ared… I couldn’t walk.”

            It was clear he was still struggling to speak, but Halsir could see the improvement, and that his mind was clearer too. The young woman rested her forehead onto the side of the cot, still holding Ferumbras’ hand in hers.

            “What else could I do? I saw you were suffering for the woman’s… death… and I felt so… guilty… I still feel… it was my fault, it was all my fault, if I hadn’t ran into you and your friends she would still be alive, it was my fault, all my fault, all my fault…”

            She sobbed hard, and all the tension of the last twenty hours found its way down her eyes and her mouth, in heavy teardrops that flowed free on her face and muffled cries. Halsir couldn’t figure out why she was taking on the guilt for the troll’s attack, considering that she herself would be dead if it weren’t for Aredhel and Nellas’s intervention, and those two were trained warriors whose job was to confront with that kind of creature, and that trolls were and had always been a real nuisance, even if not a usual presence in Mirkwood.

            But Ferumbras could relate, as he knew what it was to make a sacrifice to spare people of suffering, and if suffering happened, to feel guilty because of this. He made a sacrifice himself, giving up the one person he loved, only because any other choice would make his parents to suffer so much, or so everything made him believe; but then Fortinbras and Lalia always demanded him to marry, what was now out of question for him. To be apart from the one he loved was one thing, to be forced to join someone he didn’t love was quite another. Anyway, it made him feel his sacrifice had been vain, because his not being with the one he loved was sacrifice enough for him, but the result was not enough to satisfy his parents. And every time he noticed them crying in silence for his bachelorship, he wondered if his sacrifice made any sense, because he saw them suffering anyway, and it was all his fault.

            “The king is right, I brought evil into this land; but I had no intention, and what can I do to mend things?”

            “Hush, child. If evil followed you into this land, it is not your fault. It could have happened to anyone, I believe.”

            “But that woman _died_ …”

            To that nor elf nor hobbit had anything to retort; but then, their musings were cut off by a keen wail in a nearby room, at first a thin cry that took shape into a whole heartedly shout of pain and anguish, where a single word could be apprehended.

            “ _Nellas_!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            [“Calm down, please, calm down…”]

            Legolas held Aredhel’s shoulders down on the cot while she trashed wildly in her awakening, but she was in so much emotional pain that all his trained warrior body was almost unable to hold her.

            “ _Nellaaas_!”

            He made a gesture over brow, hoping against hope the little he knew about healing could help in that case, and murmured some words in the ancient elven language he learned form his father.

            [“Elbereth grant you peace.”]

            Her eyes swung wide open, a maddened light in them.

            [“Elbereth _take me_! _Nellaaas!_ ”]

            Her struggle to sit up on the cot was held down by sheer power of will on Legolas’ part.

            [Stop. Look at me.”]

            Conformable, she followed his words, but the result was far from the desired.

            [“Lossenel? Lossenel, you came to guide me to Mandos’? Lossenel?]

            Legolas was unable to do much more than to hold her close to him and mumble under his breath.

            [Be in peace, Milady, be in peace…”]

            She shoved him away from her and grabbed his collar in the same movement, bringing his face close to hers.

            [“Lossenel…?”] Her eyes widened at the realization. [“You are _not_ Lossenel! I’m _not_ in Mandos’!”]

            His almost silent ‘ _no_ ’ didn’t reach her ears, and she grabbed his hair on both sides of his head, bringing him closer to her, looking deeply into his dark eyes, so similar to her own.

            [“I’m still alive?”]

            [“Yes. Thanks the Valar.”]

            She closed her eyes and shuddered hard.

            [“No! No!”]

            His light caress on her brow seemingly bought her a little closer to reality.

            [“You are _not_ Lossenel… Who are you?”]

            It was his time to swallow hard.

            [“I’m Legolas. I’m her son.”]

            Aredhel embraced him and hid her face in his shoulder, sobbing even harder than before.

            [“My nephew… my little nephew…”]

 

ooo000ooo

           

            The disjointed trio of human, elf and halfling reached the door of the infirmary room Aredhel was in just in time to see the tough warrior woman collapse in Legolas’ arms. They heard some of their talking, but obviously only Halsir was able to understand what was going on. Heeding Ferumbras’ protests, they made him walk propped on their arms instead of being carried like a child, and it made them be slower than needed, but the halfling’s dignity was also needed.

            Having seen Aredhel in all her warrior might let Ferumbras appreciate, if this were a fit word, the depth of her pain; she was a crumble, a shadow, a fragment of the elf she was; to Gwendolin, it was like if her pain flowed from her like the tsunami after an undersea earthquake: irresistible, dense, overwhelming, uncontrollable.

            Halsir had already seen enough pain to dwell on it, but he felt it nonetheless.

            They stood at the door, uncertain of what to do, beholding the prince carding his long bowman fingers through her hair while Gil-Galad’s armourer sobbed her pain into his shoulders. It was not hard to see her hurt reached a level of physical pain, and that it depleted her to exhaustion.

            The healer got closer to his patient, trying to evaluate her actual state without too much questioning, as it was clear she was still in the first phases of mourning.

            “Lady Aredhel…” She turned her head abruptly, almost knocking Legolas’ chin out of place.

            “Where is she? Where is Nellas? Take me to her _now_!”

            Her hallucinated gaze wandered from the healer to the human girl.

            “You! You! You brought the beast! You stupid mortal _nothing_ , are you aware of what you’ve done?” Aredhel was almost jumping from her cot, barely constrained by Legolas and Halsir. “You brought a troll! _You_ killed Nellas! _You killed my wife_!”

            Gwendolin was frozen in place, eyes wide as saucers in her shame and guilt and fear, because she had seen that woman fight and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her rage. But she was. And it was her fault. She found her voice as a whisper, inaudible under the elf’s raging cries.

            “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I had no intention, please forgive me, I’m so sorry…”

            Aredhel was about to get lose from Legolas tight grip when Halsir found a spot on her neck and applied a strong pressure that knocked her out again. The prince lowered her down on the cot and adjusted her to be more comfortable.

            “It was not a wise idea to let her see you so soon, but then I was worried on our halfling’s well fare and didn’t think. That was stupid of me, Culdawen won’t let me forget it.”

            “I’m so sorry, I’d do anything to mend things, I feel so bad about all this! She will never forgive me.”

            “Lady Aredhel is too distraught right now, she has yet to cope.” The healer turned to Legolas. “She recognized you. What do you think her reaction predicts?”

            “I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling about it; she took me for my mother at first, but seemingly expected Lossenel to take her to Mandos. I don’t like the sound of this.”

            Halsir pondered.

            “When she wakes up again I’ll make Lady Aredhel take a mild potion to keep her calm but clear-minded. When I see fit, she’ll talk to you and the king.” He turned to the hobbit, currently propped on the human’s arm. “And you, little fellow, back to bed and to rest. I’ll pour more counter-venom on your bandages and by supper time we’ll see how you’re faring.”

            “Can I help?”

            The girl’s offer took the elf by surprise, but a welcomed one.

            “Any experience in healing?”

            “Not really, but I always helped Sister Whoopi in first aiding. I’m not scared of wounds.”

            “There will be no open wound to be scared of, anyway. Help is always welcome, if prince Legolas has no other plans for you.”

            “I would only guide her back to her chambers. If you can do this for me later on, I’ll leave her in your company while I attend to other issues.”

 


	25. The Wind Will Know My Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Röac, is it you? I can’t believe the ravens are here around!”  
>  The larger bird corrected Lily.  
>  “Nay, earthbound, my father Röac flies in a brighter sky already. I am Rärc, son of Röac, and this is my daughter Crîck.”  
>  “I’m Wolfram and these are my daughters Lily and Iris, o noble raven.”  
>  “It is an honour to meet you, Rärc, son of Röac. Your father was a brave.”  
>  “Ha!” Rärc croaked back at Lily. “It’s easy to be brave when you don’t have alternatives.”

            They reached a wide door with guards, and for what the visitors had seen on the remaining of the level it was not a homely floor. The guards greeted the newcomers with a clash of their metal gloved fists to their chests and granted them entrance.

            The room immediately after the door was wide and maybe two dozens dwarves worked with all kind of weapon and armour, sharpening blades and greasing leather items, polishing metal and oiling joints. The walls were covered with shelves, signalled in colours, which held kits of armoury organized by size, so it would be easy to any number of warriors to be prepared in a small amount of time.

            Knee led them through a corridor to the right and knocked on a closed door. It was possible to see above the walls that the torches inside were lit, as they reflected in the mirror devices that multiplied the range of the light. There was someone inside, and the door was quickly opened ajar.

            “Who in Durin’s name… Ah, it’s you, you royal brats!” Nori looked up at the remaining guests. “Come inside, all of you. I’m having a little meeting with Glóin and one who you didn’t see yet, I believe.”

            Iris noticed he was using the weighted-knuckle gloves she gave him sooner, and was pleased. She and Lily had a hard time choosing the gifts and weren’t sure if all of them would suit.

            As soon as they were in a guttural voice boomed from across the room, startling mostly Wolfram, who didn’t get used to it in the previous visit. Kim squirmed in his arms to be let down, and the little thing ran right into Bifur’s waiting hands to be thrown up and caught again, as it was indeed the old warrior and toymaker who just greeted them in old Khuzdul. Glóin patted the wizard’s arm, reassuringly, seeing his distress at having his niece made into a jumping toy.

            “Don’t worry yourself, Master Wizard, that one couldn’t be in better hands, you can bet your…” Glóin eyed the guest cautiously and made a different choice of words than he normally would. “… _staff_ that he would rather lose his beard than to let any harm befall on little Kim.”

            Wolfram sighed and smiled.

            “I’m sure, Master Glóin; I’m just not used to it anymore, it’s been so long since I had little cute girls at home I almost forgot they are made of rubber.”

            “What is ‘ _rubber_ ’, if I may ask?”

            “Hmm, ahh, it’s an isoprene polymer that is harvested from certain trees that produce latex, and then…”

            “What my father is trying to say is that it is a thing that can be stretched and twisted and comes back to its former shape without breaking or being damaged.”

            “Thank you very much for the translation, Lady Lily.”

            “You’re welcome, Master Glóin!”

            “Hey, I thought _I_ was the languages nerd around!”

            “You are, Daddy, but someone has to translate what you say into an understandable wording. Lily has been doing it for _years_ , if you have missed.”

            Bifur made some grunts and gestures and Nori translated to the visitors, as he wasn’t sure how much Lily and Iris remembered from their lessons, and sure that Wolfram didn’t know anything in Iglishmêk.

            “Bifur asks to what we owe the pleasure of this visit, as he was sure he would meet you only tonight at the banquet.”

            “Quenching our longing isn’t reason enough, dear Bifur?” Iris placed a chaste kiss on the warrior’s cheek, making him blush, but Knee had other explanation.

            “Amad asked me and Frérin to show them the kingdom, and none can claim to know Erebor without knowing the main armory. When I noticed your office was in use, Mister Bifur, I assumed we could find you here, and who’s better than you to show it to them?”

            Bifur was visible flattered, and bowed low, making Kim roll over his shoulders and land on the floor in the same movement, not for a second letting her loose from his grasp. The girl giggled and ran away from him, looking for a way to pester her sister. Bifur mumbled something unintelligible and Glóin translated, adding his own comments.

            “It will be a pleasure, if you are able to distract yourselves for about half an hour; we are deciding on some matters about the scouting parties we are having around, as we want to have some answers for the King before his meeting with the North-Easterlingas ends. Then we can spend any time you want to show you the armory and to explain it in detail. In the meanwhile, I’m sure young Thorin here can tell you something about the raids we are suffering from the orcs in recent years, can’t you, lad?”

            The boy looked at the points of his boots, having Frérin to help him in this task, and mumbled something as unintelligible as Bifur had just minutes before. Nori came to his rescue.

            “No, laddies, you won’t be deemed as spies for telling the girls and your uncle about what you heard in _that_ meeting. One of you can tell them what you heard then, while the other keeps one eye on the _trouble triplet_.”

            And so Nori, Glóin and Bifur were able to go forward in their conversations while Frérin distracted Lyn, Fíli and Kim with wooden models of warriors of assorted races, that the generals used to show war strategies on the maps, and Knee explained his relatives about raids, scouting parties and brigades, their relationship with the men of Dale, with the Lake People, and with Mirkwood elves. Wolfram was more at ease with the political issues, while the girls understood more than him about warfare. Then a panic attack hit Iris.

            “What about my wedding? What about Bilbo? He hasn’t reach Erebor yet, what it the orcs got him on the way?” She clung to her father’s tunic hem. “Daddy, we landed in the middle of a war and my husband-to-be is not here!”

            Wolfram knelt down to hug his hobbit-sized daughter, trying to calm her, but he himself was more panicked than her.

            “I-I’m sure your Aunt must have a plan of some kind, a-and…”

            A steady hand landed on his shoulder, reassuring.

            “This is not a war, yet, but an offensive escalade that can be quelled in time. We just must know how far the enemy is willing to go, and to know this we must know what his goals are. _Then_ we make plans, and _then_ we win.”

            Wolfram looked up expecting to find Glóin at his side, or at least Nori, as Bifur would not be able to talk like that even if he had the same thoughts in his mind; but the hand on his shoulder that the wizard realized was not really _that_ large belonged to none of them, as all of them had already changed their voices long time ago.

            “Is your Mother teaching you ‘ _The Art of War_ ’, young Padawan? (1)

            Knee chuckled.

            “Maybe not with the same words, but by the name of it, she fed it to me along with her milk, Uncle!” he smiled and turned to the anxious hobbit-lass. “Cousin, everybody is expecting news and visitors from west; and Erebor’s army is making everything possible to keep the orcs at bay. They won’t trespass both Durin’s folk and the men of Dale, rest assured.”

            Nori intervened in their conversation.

            “It is exactly about their goals that we are discussing here. They have attacked in what seems to be a random pattern in the last years, always in this season. And they are more stealing and pillaging than anything else, when usually they burn things down. There has been no burning at all, which is strange.”

            “It doesn’t matter why they are doing things this or that way, we must fight them and that’s it.”

            “Aye, Glóin, but that’s what we have done last years and they came back the next year just the same. We must make something different if we want a different result.”

            “There’s no good thing to do to orcs besides to hack and slash them! What should we do different?”

            “That’s what we must find out!”

            Their argument was cut down by the sound of fluttering wings and the arrival of two loud fellows, who perched themselves on an armor stand and on the bureau. The visitors were enthralled.

            “Röac, is it you? I can’t believe the ravens are here around!”

            The larger bird corrected Lily.

            “Nay, earthbound, my father Röac flies in a brighter sky already. I am Rärc, son of Röac, and this is my daughter Crîck.”

            “I’m Wolfram and these are my daughters Lily and Iris, o noble raven.”

            “It is an honour to meet you, Rärc, son of Röac. Your father was a brave.”

            “Ha!” Rärc croaked back at Lily. “It’s easy to be brave when you don’t have alternatives.”

            “Don’t heed my father, he is as proud of my grandfather as one could be.” The smaller raven soared and landed on a chair so to be closer to the hobbit too. “I was told about the little ones that live in the west. Are you one of them?”

            “Not yet, but I will be, soon. If the orcs don’t kill my betrothed while he walks on the road that leads here, that is.”

            “It seems annoying to have to walk instead of flying, but then you don’t have people throwing stones at you, I suppose.”

            “No, people no, just stone giants, sometimes!”

            Crîck flew back to her father’s side, to follow his report and to add her own contributions. He was just exposing their findings on the forest borders.

            “The dust cloud of many walkers faded some due to the light rain we had; when we reached our forest borders they had vanished, but the tracks were those of orcs and wargs. We searched the woods and found many scattered camps, each one with many orcs, and they are armed.”

            “Rärc, how _many_ are those _many_ camps, besides _many_? It is important.”

            Nori required the raven’s ability to count but it was not that easy; the bird simply didn’t have the engine to deal with the abstraction.

            “I don’t know, there were _many_ , many as in _many_ , and I mean it!”

            “Humpf!” The dwarf was frustrated, but one uses a spy on wings as one can. “And how many orcs in each camp, pray? Just _many_?”

            “ _Many_.”

            “If we could differentiate the units that compose the _many_ , maybe we could measure it somehow.”

            “What do you mean, Master Wizard?”

            “Is there anything that differ the orcs amongst themselves? Like the clothing or kind of weapon?”

            “Good question. They use mostly scimitars, sometimes spears, and rarely a bow. What did you see, good friend? Consider one camp at time.”

            Rärc tended to respond more willingly to Nori after some cajoling, and the sight of a silver bead in the intelligencer’s gloved fingers seemed to help his memory.

            “Many orcs had scimitars, and not so many had spears, maybe one spear to every two scimitars. I saw no bow, but I saw a drum.”

            “A drum?”

            “Aye, each camp had a drum, and a coloured flag.” Contributed Crîck. Lily whispered to her father, curious.

            “I didn’t know birds could see colours at all.”

            “Not only they do, but they also see the ultraviolet spectrum and magnetic fields.”

            “Suddenly, I feel myself blind!”

            Bifur shouted and gesticulated wildly, so not even Glóin was able to understand him. Noticing none got his idea, he sighed and spoke again, slower this time, and the female raven answered.

            “Yes, the flags had colours, and no, they were not all the same colour, though more than one camp had the same colour.”

            “That’s it! Crîck, may Manwë send you the most blessed winds of all Valinor! You found it!”

            “I did?” She asked, suspicious of all that cheering.

            “Can you tell us the colours of the flags? Try to think about each camp separately, it may help.”

            “Aye, let me think. There was a dirty yellow, a brown, a dirty blue and a gray, but it might be a badly dirty yellow. And two blacks and two dirty red ones, too.”

            “Eight camps!”

            Nori whistled.

            “Each one with a drummer, more than three spearmen and its double of swordsmen. If it is just four spears and eight swords, it would be at least thirteen orcs per camp, but it seems unlikely for them to part in so little parties. Other years they raided in groups of twenty or more.” Glóin was not pleased with the estimated numbers and its deployments. “And to have a drummer along means they want to communicate with the other camps, it’s obvious.”

            “Why? What does it mean?”

            “This, Lady Halfling, uses to mean they are about to make a coordinated attack, coming from more than one direction, or to different places at the same time, so one place cannot help the other.” He turned back to the ravens. “How far are they, can you tell?”

            “Aye. Last time we saw them they were near the north-west borders of the woods, and they camped like one who wants to stay for some days, hidden.”

            “Hmm, that region is not very easy to march, so it can hinder them, as well as making it difficult for us to reach them. Our scouting parties ain’t going that far, as there will be no more harvesting there this year, those woods are meant for building and have to grow some years yet, that’s why they brought no news about them.”

            Bifur signalled something in Iglishmêk and Lily translated for her father.

            “Twelve days on dwarf foot and five days as the raven flies.”

            Glóin completed.

            “So, even if they followed Rärc and Crîck right away, they’d be kind of a week behind them. If they are really staying some days there, we have a longer time to prepare, too.”

            “Hmm, it can mean that they want to rest before the assault, or that they are waiting for more of them to come.”

            “The two options mean evil to us. Anyway, we must find out what they are aiming for.”

            “We must do more spying. Rärc, Crîck, we know you are tired of your travelling, but when would it be possible for you to set out on a second intelligence flight?” Nori added, so his allies wouldn’t feel considered as just servants, even if their need for speed was not little. “Consider any time you need to rest, and that tonight you’ll be welcome to the royal banquet. Obviously, the tasty parts of cattle, sheep and pork that are being prepared for the banquet, that your people is so fond of, are already being carted to Raven Hill.”

            Crîck wiped her beak in her wing trying to seem absently and waited for her father to answer. She would gladly rest her tired feathers for a whole week, but understood Erebor kingdom patronised the ravens of Raven Hill, and that her people never had such a good living than when the dwarves were in charge. The mismatch between dwarven and raven taste provided her people with what ravens deemed most rare and delightsome, like brains, lungs, tongues and eye globes, yummy, delicious eye globes, Manwë be praised. It was a mutual help that could not be considered lightly, and being the heiress of the raven leader bestowed her with responsibilities besides the advantages of being in the good graces of the dwarves. She saw her father pondering what he heard and what he knew that lay ahead, a bristle of his neck feathers telling her he reached a decision.

            “Nori, old pall, nothing would suit me better than to attend to your banquet and then rest my weary wings in my nest until Durin wakes again, but I’m sure a plate of sheep eyes and a tray of Bombur’s cookies will make fell a hatchling again.” The bird shot glances at Knee and Frérin, suspicious. “That is, if none is prone to kidnap me from the table this time…”

            “Be sure you’ll be treated with all honour the line of Cärc deserves, and no insolent dwarfling will mess with you and your family at the banquet.”

            This was stated by Glóin, who eyed Knee with steel eyes. Frérin was always willing to follow whatever Knee planned, and had his own very personal concept of what was proper or not,  but Knee’s leadership on him was obvious, and the younger one would agree to any stupid idea the older one would come to. Knowing that one had been too much to anyone involved, the youngling made his best to find his boot tips interesting, but glad enough for not having been shoved out of Bifur’s office when the ravens came. After all, he _was_ attending a discussion on orc raids, and Nori _had_ allowed him to explain to his relatives things about their warfare and politics with the neighbour peoples. It _was_ a development.

            Rärc fluttered to a stool close to the said insolent dwarfling and crooked his head to look daggers directly at him.

            “Crrr. So be it.” He looked back at Nori. “My people has pressing matters that require my attention, but I’ll send Tärk, my second-in-command, along with Crîck, who already knows where the orcs are.” He crooked his head up to his daughter. “Will you be ready in two days, _chickie_?”

            Her golden eyes blinked once, and her beak uplifted proudly as Crîck answered.

            “Tonight we feast, tomorrow we rest, and in the dawn of the second day the wind will know my wings, my father.”

            If a beak were able to smile, Rärc’s one would be the one. Instead, he fluttered his wings and shook his body, making his feathers to stand up, appraising her good will with a caw.

            “This is my brave Crî…arrrk!”

            Rärc’s sudden and loud croak, mixed with the unruly flutter of his wings trying to get hold on thin air, stunned both visitors and resident dwarves, except for one little dark haired dwelfling who clambered down from the stool where Rärc perched just moments before, her chubby hand full of bluish black feathers, a victory smile on her face.

            “Look, _Unca Woof_! _Kee_ has _‘aven_ feathers for _Unca_!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – The Art of War, by Sun Tzu


	26. Namarië

            Gwendolin spent a couple of hours in the company of the hobbit, and was amazed on how his physical condition improved under her eyes while they talked. He told her what he knew about Aredhel and Nellas, and about elves in general, what made her more aware of the size of the vespiary she put her foot in. It would be hard to make amends with the blond elf, if it would be possible at all.

            She told him a little about her life, and of how she was abashed for having lost her appointment at the studio and confused about where she was. To this Ferumbras could offer little comfort, as he himself was not feeling quite right with the misadventure he stepped in, but granted her Bilbo’s wedding would be a feast worthy the trouble. Gwendolin found it most interesting to know Bilbo’s bride was actually from another world, and for what she understood, it could only be her own. It gave her hope, at least.

            When finally Halsir guided her back to her chambers, after helping with the hobbit’s dinner, her face was lightened by the sight of her handbag on her bed, beside a couple of ankle long dresses that she couldn’t wait to see how were made. But before she could make any move in their direction, the healer wrinkled his nose to somewhat.

            “What do you have in your luggage, if I’m so bold to ask?”

            “Ah, well, just some clothes, but mostly unfit for this place, and my sewing stuff.”

            “No. There’s something smelling here. Do you have any food in your bag?”

            Gwendolin frowned and opened the bag, remembering something. The small wrapped thing was not foul, but surely was not fresh anymore.

            “What is this?”

            “Ouch. It _was_ half a roast beef sandwich. Now it is a ... somewhat smelly... _thing_... that should be thrown away. I should have eaten it earlier, sorry.”

            “Roast beef?” The elf tilted his head and looked at her strangely. “You mean meat that’s roasted outside but still tender inside?”

            “Yes; why?”

            “Ha! Now I understand it all!”

            “I don’t understand anything at all!”

            Halsir took the offending piece of sandwich from her hand and wrapped it in a piece of cloth before storing it in a pocket.

            “I’ll take care of throwing this away for you. You know, trolls eat anything they can put their hands on, but they are completely incontrollable on roasted meat. The one who chased you was most probably chasing your sandwich, with you as dessert. Sorry.”

            The girl shook her head.

            “I think I’ll never more be able to eat roast beef again…”

           

ooo000ooo

 

            The group of travellers was relieved to know the message Beorn sent to Thranduil had been delivered and that a scouting party of elves had been sent to find the trio on the forest path. Until then the comings and goings of the black squirrels were deemed as nothing more than Beorn’s usual musings with every kind of animal, at least by the hobbits; the elves, on the other hand were well aware of their communication, and kept out of it simply out of deference to privacy. But, with the news that the message had been successfully delivered, most of them got into a cheerful mood.

            “Something had to compensate for Ferumbras’ bad luck, after all. Now he will be pampered by dozens of beautiful elven ladies in a palace while we trot on.”

            “It sounds only fair that he will get some good treatment for his poisoning, but I’ll be at easy only when I have news of him having reached the palace.”

            “Don’t be this pessimistic, Uncle Bilbo. Bad thoughts bring bad luck, you know.”

            “It may be, little Beryl, but I prefer to remain sceptic for now.”

            “Your uncle is right, Miss Took. About a goblin poisoning, one knows how it starts, but you never know how it ends.”

            “As you wish, Figwit, but I prefer to look at the sunny side of things. By the way, I’m tired of telling you to just call me Beryl!”

            “As you wish, Miss Beryl.”

            “Argh!” She rolled her eyes. “You are hopeless!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “You look lovely today, Gwen!”

            The cheerful greeting the hobbit gave her was all she needed to brighten her day. Along their talk the previous day they had settled things as skipping all those Master and Lady stuff, and even her name became the short nick she was used to, as had his.

            She was glad to see him so well, his speech betraying how much his health had improved from the night before. He was sitting, propped up with pillows, and had a bowl of gruel in his lap. His right hand was unwrapped and he used it to handle a spoon to feed himself his breakfast.

            “I’m feeling better, Ferum, after a whole night of sleep without trolls chasing me; although I had a nightmare or two, but I think it is only expected, given the circumstances. Half of me expected to wake up in my own world, but I think I must stop to act as a child and recognize things are what they are, not what I wished for.”

            “And what would you have, if you could wish it true?”

            Her eyes fell on her fidgeting hands, her voice low almost as if talking to herself.

            “I’d wish to be back home, doesn’t matter if in my own apartment or back in the orphanage; I wish that plane didn’t crash and I hadn’t lost my appointment at the studio; I wish that detestable awful troll had never chased me; but most of all, I wish Lady Nellas hadn’t died. Isn’t it sad, Ferum, to lose a person you didn’t even get the chance to know? For the much I was afraid yesterday, because Lady Aredhel was so out of herself, but I still want to apologize to her, even if everyone tells me it was not my fault. She must be so sad... I can’t even begin to imagine what is to love someone for hundreds of years.”

            “I cannot, too, even if we hobbits reach easily over a hundred years; but we come of age only at thirty-three, and then it is not everybody who marries right away. You see, my cousin Bilbo is already seventy-eight, but then his story is very uncommon, I must say.”

            “If it is like the story I heard, it must be indeed.”

            Ferumbras thought it strange.

            “What story did you hear?”

            The woman perceived her mistake; she couldn’t be sure _that_ Bilbo was _the_ Bilbo of the movies; most probably not, of course; her mind still refused that everything around her was too much of a coincidence to be coincidence at all, but with her slip with the Gimli issue she had decided on no more words about the movies still she was sure to whom she was talking to.

            “Oh, yesterday I heard at the throne hall that he gave a gift of emeralds to the elven king, yet you told me that he had been prisoner here? Why would he give a gift to whom imprisoned him?”

            The hobbit seemed to have bought her evasion, and corrected her.

            “He himself was not imprisoned, it was the company of dwarves that was with him that was. He managed to get them out of here hidden in barrels! But then it all was solved later.”

            More coincidences. Just coincidences, nothing more, she repeated to herself.

            In that moment Halsir stepped into the infirmary room with a serious face, but smiled slightly when seeing her choice of clothes. He knew she had asked for fabric to sew, but it was obvious she would need time to do anything, and decorum urged, so it was made that some dresses were sent to her room; now an earthly red gown covered her entirely, the collar adorned by a silvery silk scarf that was not of their make, obviously something from her world, but that worked with the lent dress.

            “I hope you both had a restful night?” He said as a greeting. They answered with the expected courtesy and he went on. “If Master Ferumbras is able to walk, your presence is required, as is yours, Milady.”

            Ferumbras tried his limbs and pursed his lips.

            “I think I can manage, with a little help.”

            Gwendolin prompted herself to prop him up, Halsir on the other side of the halfling. She asked, cautiously, not at easy with the idea of facing the king again.

            “What are we summoned to, if I may ask…?”

            The healer heaved a sigh.

            “We have a funeral to attend.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            It took them time to reach the main gate of the palace, with Ferumbras walking slowly and unsteady, but he felt it was his duty to walk on his own feet, and none of them seemed to be very anxious to reach the burial field.

            Several elves were already in the place, a mile or so apart from the palace, and more coming. In the middle of the forest it was surprising for Ferumbras to find a green field like that, with beautiful patches of flowers on the waved ground. But bringing it back to her mind, the human woman recalled that she saw several patches like those when she was riding to the palace, after being rescued the morning before. As they chatted quietly about their observations, they saw more and more elves come out of the woods.

            Ferumbras and Gwendolin had no idea there were so many elves hidden inside that dark forest, but Halsir quietly explained them that, as a death was something so unusual amongst them, everybody able made to attend the funeral.

            Because of the halfling’s slow pace, they were almost the last to come to the glade; soon after, four grey clad elves came forth carrying a sad litter, where Nellas was lain down as if soundly asleep. Close behind came Aredhel, supported at the arms by Thranduil and Legolas, all of them soberly dressed and wearing matching somber faces. The sad procession stopped at a spot where the litter was laid down on the vivid green grass, the raven haired elf pale as mist; her companion knelt at her side lightly caressing her hair, that weaved down her shoulders like a night river, and her face, amidst inaudible murmurs. Thranduil begun to speak in a low but far reaching voice.

            Even not understanding the words, it was clear to the strangers that the king spoke words of solace and comfort, and that he really grieved for the deceased one. It didn’t matter that they were of different races, and in the case of the human, of different worlds; the loss of a beloved one was an universal pain, one they all could relate.

            Once the king silenced, Aredhel faltered and laid her head on Nellas’ chest, on her pink and gold and glittering  gown, and threw her arms around her shoulders as if she could draw from her the strength she needed to carry on. After several minutes of silence, Legolas dared to reach the back of Aredhel’s hand with the tip of his fingers, and she looked up at him, face streaked with her weeping. Instead of rising, she stayed knelt at Nellas’ side, uplifted her face, and begun to sing.

            Gwendolin didn’t need to know the language to understand it was a farewell song, and Aredhel’s deep voice, unaided by any other sound or instrument, was enough to make her cry.

 

*

Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,   
yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!   
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier   
mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva   
Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar   
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni

ómaryo airetári-lírinen.   
  
Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?   
  
An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo   
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë,   
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë;   
ar sindanóriello caita mornië

i falmalinnar imbë met, ar hísië

untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.   
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!

  
Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.

Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!

 

[Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind,]

[long years numberless as the wings of trees!]

[The years have passed like swift draughts]

[of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West,]

[beneath the blue vaults of Varda]

[wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly.]

 

[Who now shall refill the cup for me?]

 

[For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars,]

[from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds,]

[and all paths are drowned deep in shadow;]

[and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us,]  
[and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever.]

[Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar!]

  
[Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.]  
[Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!]

 

            Thinking there was nothing more to make her feel guiltier, and that there was nothing more that could make her cry more than she already had, one after the other the attending elves begun to approach the litter and to lay down flowers, leaves, handfuls of seeds; Gwendolin noticed the dark auburn haired elf who first talked to her in the aftermath of the troll’s chase handle down to Aredhel a pair of throwing daggers, and that the grief struck elf carefully put them in each one of Nella’s hands; even Halsir produced a flower strand out of a pocket, but she and the halfling had nothing to add to the growing mound of small tokens of affection. Ferumbras was having the same feeling, but then he noticed a detail they had in common.

            “You trust me?”

            His whispered voice reached her

            “Yes; why?”

            He looked up at her with earnest eyes.

            “Give me your scarf.”

            She got the idea at once, unknoted it and handled it to Ferumbras.

            “Please. I would not be able to get near her; not right now.”

            The hobbit added his own ascot to her scarf and wobbled to the mound, where he laid their offer of care and longing to the growing amount of flowers that covered the elf in the pink and golden gown. When he retreated, the healer was already looking for him to be guided back to the infirmary, and Gwendolin accompanied them, feeling it would be the most safe thing she could do right then. But her curiosity was bound to be more than her health wanted it to be, as Sister Amanda used to say, and she pestered the healer with questions, if only to have a voice to hear.

            “Is it so that it is done here? You bury people under flowers? It is beautiful.”

            Halsir’s gaze was strangely far when he answered, while picking an orange coloured flower from one of the moulds they passed by and sticking it behind his ear.

            “Latter, today, her physic remnants will be covered with earth, the flesh of this world; and the seeds she sowed in her life will grow on the mould that covers her mortal remains.”

            It struck her.

            “Then, all those green mounds, covered with flowers…”

            “Are the final rest of someone of our people. Along the millennia that we dwell in this forest, many of our have fallen.”

            She recalled some similar mounds she saw when riding to the palace first time.

            “I understood that your people didn’t die like other peoples…”

            “Not _like_ other peoples; but we die in battle, as you have seen happen, and out of grief. That’s why we have to have extra care with the ones who stay after losing someone dear. Lady Aredhel will have a tough time ahead until she recovers.”

            Once more the human felt guilt tie a knot in her throat.

            “I must help her. I don’t know how, but I must help her. I cannot let her die of grief.” She looked up at the healer. “What can I do to help her? Please?”

            Halsir pursed his lips and scratched his head, looking uncomfortable.

            “There is not something that works for sure, else none more would die this way; but there are things you can try. Are you sure you are willing?”

            She swallowed hard, blinked once and took in a deep breath.

            “I am. Though I don’t know what to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Yes, it is obviously Galadriel’s song of farewell, Namarië, by our beloved Professor Tolkien.


	27. The North-Easterlingas

            After dismissing her relatives and children, Ellen hurried to help Kíli into garments fitting his royal position, high quality velvet and fine pelisse dressing him in black and blue and outstanding gold; then Dís took over the task of doing his hair, grumbling.

            “You should really hire and chamberlain, my mother would double back somersault if she knew the King Under the Mountain does not even use the services of a chamberlain.”

            “I have no use for a chamberlain, Ma. We never had one in the Blue Mountains, why should we have one here?”

            “Our people must know their king is well tended to.”

            “Our people must know their king doesn’t need to be pampered like a spoiled child.”

            “It looks like the kingdom doesn’t have the wealth for it.”

            “It looks like the kingdom’s wealth is more useful elsewhere.”

            “You know the comments that arise when Dáin and his own are around.”

            “And you know how much I care for what Dáin comments.”

            “But you should; he is a political issue that must be addressed properly.”

            “He is a political _nuisance_ that will be addressed properly when _he_ starts to address _me_ properly.” He handled his mother a gold bead studded with tiny diamonds. “But Dáin can apply to be my chamberlain, if it bothers him so much.”

            While they bickered, the elf changed into a gown designed in dwarven patterns but that evidenced her different bearing and almost made her look taller than her six feet, the royal blue contrasting with details in white and silver. She used some starch cream and fruit balm to accent her features, and then both mother and son took on braiding her waist long hair in a suitable fashion. All of them worked fast and chatted even faster while the royal pair prepared to welcome formally the guests, Dáin’s subject forgotten for the time being.

            “Ellen, what do we know about them?”

            Kíli asked out of the habit of having his wife storing data for meetings and negotiations for him.

            “Well, they live close to the northern sea, having access to every kind of cold sea food, and the lands they dwell are scarce of metal. If they have salt, it can be good trade for us both, as we are closer to them than to Lindon, but I don’t know if they have technology to extract it from the sea. They use dogs to pull their sledges on the snow and have high consideration for their hounds. Classic patriarchal, the most probable is that no women will have come with them, and seemingly Nori’s staff reports confirm this hypothesis.”

            “Nonsense, dwarrowdams travel all Middle-Earth around and none ever notice it.”

            Dís contributed out of self experience, forgetting for a moment other races women didn’t use to wear beards. Ellen ignored her.

            “We have no report on them having any kind of commerce or other kind of dealing with other peoples south of the Grey Mountains, including Dáin’s, but we don’t know about them and the Empty Lands in the East.”

            “If they are empty, we don’t have to worry about it.”  
            “Kíli, everybody presumes they are empty, but none got there and returned to say if this assumption is true. Remember the first elves awoke near Cuiviénen Lake, and it is a lot further east than Iron Hills. They must have some contact with people like us because they are able to communicate in Westron. But this is not what we must focus on right now, but our opportunities with the Sun-Cheng.”

            “The _Soon-what_?”

            “Sun-Cheng is what they call themselves, it’s the name of their people. We are _not_ to call them North-Easterlingas, even if it is what we are used to call them. We can get unused to it as we use ourselves to call them their righteous name.”

            “And what does this name mean, do we have a clue?”

            “Seemingly, something like ‘north-lights’ or ‘north-enlightened’, we couldn’t find out an accurate translating. Actually, we don’t know how much Westron they speak and if their own language is anything close to ours. But if our negotiations have gone this far is because communication is possible at least with one emissary, and we must hold on this.”

            “Any taboo we must avoid?”

            “Don’t nick-name them by any fish name, it is offensive; don’t look directly at their dogs or they women, they might believe you want to _borrow_ them.”

            “What for?”

            “What for _what_?”

            “What for one would borrow a _dog_?”

            “To warm oneself in winter.”

            “This is ridiculous!”

            “They might think many of our habits are ridiculous, too, like wearing boots even when there is no snow.”

            “But this is because there is always the risk of having a stone falling on you feet when you live in a mountain!”

            “Yep, this is obvious to us, but not for them. So, avoid mentioning their habits as ridiculous if you want your habits to be respected too.”

            “You sound like Balin.”

            “I’ll take this as a compliment!”

            Dís finished adjusting Ellen’s circlet, dwarven patterns in the elven style concept of a crown, and expressed her own curiosity.

            “Understood about borrowing the dogs, but did I hear you say something about borrowing their _women_?”

            “Ahm, embarrassingly so, for what I know, not with the same purpose as the dogs…”

            Kíli didn’t even try to hide his amusement.

            “So it means that if I am to be a perfect diplomat and respect their habits, they will lend me a woman of theirs? It doesn’t seem so nasty, after all…”

            Ellen threw a hair comb in his direction, missing his head by half an inch as he ducked to safety.

            “Let’s see if you won’t find it nasty if one of their men looks directly at _me_!”

            “Hey, this is not fair!”

            “Stop, you two brats, or you’ll mess all your hair again and I’ll let you go to the throne hall looking like a pair of disgruntled weasels!”

            “Aye, Amad!”

            The royal pair answered in unison, feigned downcast eyes like children caught red handed stealing cookies. Dís finished with a head to toes inspection and nodded in approval.

            “Now, let us lunch in peace while the North-Chengs are doing the same. They were provided some of the best guest chambers in the west wing and are being attended to by Balin’s staff, so we don’t have to worry about them.”

            “Thank you, Ma, for arranging everything for us while we were occupied with my family.”

            “You’re welcome, Nathith.”

            Dís smiled at them, proudly noticing how much her son looked more and more like her deceased brother, with the indisputable green eyes of her husband. One-hundred-five was not a mature age for a dwarven king, not even to be married and even less to be already father of _five_ , but in her eyes her youngest was doing a fine job. And after the first natural shock, she became even fond of the elf, albeit her lack of beard.

            They chatted lightly while lunching, having settled most of what they wanted to share or not with the delegation, but it was mostly a formal introduction of one kingdom to the other, involving a traditional exchange of gifts. The real diplomatic and commercial issues would be discussed later, with more time and less luxury, in close quarters instead of on display for the crowd to see. But it was important to show any delegation the might and wealth of Erebor, and to their own people in how high esteem their rulers were accounted by foreigners.

            “Don’t want to be with us, Ma?”

            Asked Kíli while helping himself a second mountain of dessert. Dís dismissed the idea with a wave of hand.

            “Oh, no, darling, I’ve had enough of this kind of stuff when your uncle shove me into regency in his absence. The stage is all yours, I’ll keep behind the curtains.”

            “But you love politics, Ma! Why don’t be on the dais?”

            “Now tell me, when did I forego politics because I was not on the dais?”

            “Ahm, actually, _never_.”

            “So, let me play in the shadows. I have more fun this way.”

            “I don’t know about fun, but I must agree, to be in the front can be tiresome and sometimes disgusting.”

            “And when you are my age, little one, you may want to skip disgusting occasions whenever you may.”

            “You’re not old, Ma!”

            “No, I’m smart!” She laughed heartedly, ruffling her son’s hair carefully not to mess its braids. “I leave all formalities for you both and keep all the fun for myself!”

            “There’s no denying to your wisdom, Dís! When I grow up, I want to be like you!”

            The dwarrowdam squeezed the elf’s hand affectionately.

            “Make Durin’s heirs be like your husband, and it will do. Then you’ll have your time to have fun, too.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The small group of strangers was conducted to the mighty hall after some refreshing and a meal, and walked slowly as the formality of the meeting required. The shorter of them had a huge, dense furred wolf-like dog walking at his heels, violet eyes studying every inch of that different place. A movement caught the dog’s eye and he turned his head to the fluttering of wings, but whatever it was, was already gone. His master made a short movement with a hand and the dog quieted himself again, recomposing its menacing features and looking straight ahead. They reached the front of the dais and both wards that escorted them performed a set of movements with their war-axes, and then granted them sight of the royal pair in their thrones.

            “Hail Kíli Elvenblood, King Under the Mountain, and Ellen Dwarvenheart, Consort Queen.”

            The shorter of the wards announced, and both him and his taller companion clashed their own breast plates with their gauntleted hands clenched around the shafts of their axes and then the ground with said shafts. The crowd in the galleries cheered, whilst the royal pair stood up and acknowledged the greetings with a small wave of their heads and a hand on their hearts, to what the whole throng quieted in expectation. Their king’s deep voice was heard by all of them, thanks to the magnificent acoustics of the hall.

            “May your forge always burn bright.”

            Were it an audience just with his own people, he would have said it in Khuzdul, as both a greeting and a blessing to the restrict dwarrow audience; but the uncommon fortuities that led him to the throne of Erebor also granted him the right to skip some formalities that a bunch of greybeards scolded him for not acknowledging. Instead of paying them attention, he chose to allow the realm to have a different relationship with other peoples and realms. Hitherto, it seemed to be working fine, although some of said greybeards would love to fine him for this, as for having his consort on a throne beside him, as it had never been heard of before in all dwarven realms; but then, there was a lot of things about Erebor and the Company that reclaimed it that had never been heard of before, and Kíli learnt quickly to make clear any discontented ones were free to leave the Mountain any day o the week.

            “And may your walls never melt.”

            If the one who answered Kíli was to be noticed by any feature then it was that he had no feature that differentiated him from his companions. Average size and built for a human, his garments were not outstanding amongst his delegation, which could only state that all of them where held in the same high esteem as himself, as it was known to Erebor’s headquarters that the leader of the North-Easterlingas’ (‘ _Soon-Cheng_ ,’ Kíli repeated to himself, ‘ _the name is Soon-Cheng_!’) party was not their rightful king, but his brother. His _spare_ , Kíli thought, like he himself would have been to Fíli if things had happened otherwise.

            Anyway, the notion that a wall could anyhow be _melted_ was absurd in his own culture, but Balin and Nori had provided information on their ritual speeches, and Ellen had endorsed the fact that in far northern ranges of her birth-world it was possible to live in halls made of ice, which made plausible the idea of a melting wall. Kíli cut his musings short when the other ward hit the floor with the shaft of the axe.

            “Sun-Cheng Tsui Wei Xiu!”

            The owner of the strange name took a step forward.

            “In the name of Sun-Cheng Xiu Wu Baaki, our Commander, I came to bring our words of high esteem, consideration and peace.”

            He had a proud bearing, straight shoulders covered with a thick fur mantle that was obviously meant to be as practical as warm, not a simple piece of decorative clothing, albeit it’s beautiful silvery gray hue. Actually, most of their garments were of different shades of gray, sometimes pure white, and occasionally cream and very light brown, almost caramel. Geometric patterns embellished brims and hems with heavy embroidery that was hard to define out of what they were made from that distance, and these patterns had more vivid and darker colours, contrasting with the winter landscape appearance of their outfit. Kíli was still considering how in Durin’s name he was to memorize all those foreign sounds, and why their king was called ‘ _commander_ ’ instead of king, when he answered.

            “In the name of the people of Durin we gladly receive and reciprocate the Soon-Cheng offer of friendship. You and your people are welcome to our halls and...”

            The exchange of courtesies was bound to continue for a while yet, and Ellen used the time to make her particular survey on their guests’ intentions. As she explained to her brother, she was by parsecs far unable to do what Galadriel did, but she could at least catch a feeling of the leitmotiv, the drive of the person she assessed. Inconspicuously gazing through the eyelashes of her downcast eyes, prevented as she was from looking straight at any of them as it could be misinterpreted, she began.

             Tsui, the leader, diverged his eyes from Kíli just enough for her to ensnare him, and his golden eyes showed a little fear when he perceived what was happening. Not fear that something amiss would be found out, but fear from dealing with, or being dealt by, the unknown. He was a man that kept his feet on solid ground, and liked it that way, and being touched by the unknown made him uneasy. Typical. But his will was good, and she sensed something that made his eyes shine. _Pride_. Pride for his people, and pride for being there in the name of his people. Always the second, now he was the first to be hailed in the name of his people by that exotic realm. Ellen left him be, with a slight nod. The protocol speeches were over and they begun to exchange information so the audience could know enough about the visitors to avoid gossip and conjectures.

            “We’ve heard the Soon-Cheng people lives further north than any of the free peoples of Middle-Earth have ever wandered, save for the First-Age elves who crossed the Helcaraxë; still, we’d like to be sure there is no allegiance or friendship with any of the breed of Morgoth.”

            The foreign leader uplifted his chin with a scowl.

            “Sun-Cheng doesn’t kneel to the Darkness; our winter lasts half of the year, half year of complete night, but our life and faith lie in the Lights of the North, and we do not mingle with murderers and enslavers.” He tilted his head to the man at his right. “Our Man of the Lights already told us the mighty Longbeards don’t relate to any of the Twisted Souls, which gave us hope of a truthful friendship.”

            Kíli sensed the opportunity to begin the exchange of symbolic gifts.

            “A truthful friendship is one where friends protect each other. Please accept a humble sample of the craftmanship of the people of Durin, devised for your protection.”

            Balin came forward with a large bundle in his arms and presented it to the leader of the delegation. Tsui bowed low in acknowledgement of the offer and opened the bulky pack, just to be astounded on how light it was albeit being a metal craftwork.

            The finely woven chainmail hauberk shone in the filtered lights of the wide windows in the balcony that reached the throne room, and the light of torches reflected and multiplied by mirrors and crystal devices. It was not mithril, as true silver was found solely in Khazad-Dum and absurdly scarce and expensive, but dwarven steel could be worked to be both strong and light and at the same time amazingly lightweighed and beautiful. Tsui’s look of astonishment to the gift was priceless, as were his words of praise on the gift.

            After releasing the leader from her gaze, the next one to be caught by Ellen’s eyes was the slender one with a staff from which a collection of unrecognizable trinkets dangled. The man named Sun-Cheng Wang Wu Chao immediately built up a protective wall around his mind, like a dense cloud, and Ellen could not keep from uplifting a corner of her mouth as she recognized a shaman when she saw one. But what or who was he protecting? Not himself, he was well aware of his own skills and that she was unable to harm him, relaxing his shoulders when he got the hint that he was safe. He was protecting someone, or some knowledge. Not unexpected from a man of magic. Their exchange of nods went quite unnoticed by the assembly.

            Then the boar of a man, that she heard being called Sun-Cheng Chang Li Qiang Wu Ping, so sturdy he could almost be mistaken for a dwarf, weren’t for his average human height and almost complete lack of beard; he bore a long bundle wrapped in leather, taller than himself. He had the same slanted, golden eyes as the rest of the delegation, and wore his hair in several thin braids instead of tight curls like the others. Self-assertion was obvious in him, and a canine loyalty towards his leader and the other gift-bearer. With the sure movements of an experienced hunter, he came forth and presented the long package, unfastening some leather strings so it could be unfolded.

            “In our lands, no protection is enough if one is not protected from the cold. The white beast of the north taught our forefathers to protect themselves from the harsh winter winds delving our homes inside the ice. We use this knowledge until our days, but we also use what protection the white beast uses for itself. May it warm your body and soul.”

            What seemed to be the wrapping of a gift was indeed one of the gifts itself. The pure white of the polar bear fur outstood even amongst its bringers, as their clothes bore more shades of gray than pure white. The bear certainly had been a huge beast, and its fur was an ostensive declaration of hunting proficiency. 

            “Our stone halls will be more comfortable this winter thanks to your kind offer. The Soon-Cheng are lucky to have so valiant hunters as to bring down the white bear of the north, whose fierceness is reckoned even in our lands, Lord Tsui.” Kíli uplifted his eyes to the long shaft that the bear fur had concealed, curious.

            Being praised, hearing his people to be praised, to be called a lord, everything was making Tsui’s day brighter. He had heard about the dwarven realm, its wealth, and his gift had been praised by their proud king, and said king was obviously interested in his other gifts. I could only bear to good negotiations.

            “Then let us present you a prize that comes from another fierce beast we deal with, the sea unicorn.”

            Chang handled the grayish staff to be beheld. It was about seven feet long, getting thinner as it reached its end, with an interesting spiraled pattern.

            “We brought it raw, o Kíli King, so we can craft the pike to suit your own hands, or those of any warrior of your choice.”

            The information that it came from a water beast astounded most of the audience, as so a long horn wasn’t expected but from a young oliphaunt. Ellen manifested herself in words for the first time.

            “Tell us, o Tsui, Sun-Cheng Lord, is this beast an air-breather?”

            “Yes it is, you Highness. It also feeds its young with milk, like the great whale, but the whale has no tusks.”

            She nodded in understanding.

            “In the place I come from it is called the narwhal.” The elf turned to the ones around her. “It’s a water beast that lives solely in the icy waters of the north. I wonder how they are hunted, as they are very large, twice as long as its tusks and very broad in build.”

            Tsui smiled at her acknowledgement of the worth of the gift, even if still uncomfortable on her mind survey.

            “It will be a pleasure to tell our tales of hunting and fishing.”

            “We are sure there will be opportunity for it at the banquet that will be held this evening.” Kíli turned to Dwalin. “We want also to present a gift of might in battle, which has been brought to its best performance by our people.”

            As Dwalin handled them a classic dwarven war-axe and the men discussed it’s qualities, Ellen took her time to survey the remaining gift-bearer. Apart from the hair, he looked very alike the other, more slender but still heavy in built, and his eyes held awe and an insatiable curiosity. Being caught in the elf’s gaze just enticed his curiosity more. There was no malice in the gold saucer eyes of Sun-Cheng Sham Li Jing Wei Chang. She let him go and observed the handling of the last of their gifts.

            “This, Lord Tsui, are Erebor rubies and our most pure gold. Red and golden is the fire of the forge, where Mahal created us, his children. May our friendship be hot as the fire of the forge, never cold and distant, never tepid and unreliable. Be it hard as the ruby and reliable as the gold.”

            The marvelously extravagant piece of jewelry sent reddish glimmers all over the place as Tsui took the necklace in his hands to admire the craftmanship. He bowed low in acknowledgement of the royalty of the gift, and put it back in the delicate shrine that held it.

            “Our Commander Sun-Cheng Xiu Wu Baaki will surely be highly honoured to be counted in so a high esteem by the King Under the Mountain.”

            Kíli smiled genuinely to the new possible friend, as he was always enthralled by praises to Erebor’s wealth. But the gift exchange was not over yet. The stranger beckoned the other gift-bearer and Ellen managed to lock eyes with the last member of the delegation just behind Sham.

            The dog master, Sun-Cheng Chao Li Baako. Height and built made clear he was still an adolescent, and he had not even the wisp of a beard the remaining delegation members had. There was fear, probably the lack of self-confidence usual in one so young, enhanced by being far from home, Ellen thought. But when the boy perceived he was being scanned his fear rose to panic, and only close obedience to protocol kept him from running away from the dais. His dog growled low, perceiving his master’s distress, and the elf was about to release the youngling from her gaze to prevent an international incident when she found the source of his fear.

            Chao’s heart skipped a beat when Ellen uplifted her eyebrows and blinked in surprise, but her slight smile reassured him, as her gesture that could be mistaken for simply a brush of her hand across her face, but that brought her forefinger to her lips in a silent commitment to secrecy. His racing heart calmed down and the dog’s growl changed to a short whimper and was ended with a wagging of tail.

            Ignoring what had passed between those two, Sham came forward with a wooden chest in his hands, richly decorated with shells and sea patterns.

            “The dry winds of our summer have the power to withdraw the water from the sea where we leave it exposed in a certain way. The result is like a strong friendship should be: it gives taste to life.”

            With the proper ceremony, Tsui opened the lid to expose its contents. The ones who were close enough to see it gaped in surprise and awe to the white, almost bluish tiny crystals that filled the chest to the brim.

            It was salt.


	28. Protect Yourself

            “This is far from an acceptable behavior, and you know it!”

            “But, Bilbo…”

            “No ‘buts’. Your choices are to be a respectable gentle-hobbit and act according to it else I’ll tell Beorn to make you be it. What means, no choice at all, if you take my meaning.”

            “For goodness sake, then will you at least hear me and hopefully help me with this issue?” Drogo was distressed at Bilbo’s demanding him to act properly, not caring if there was any reason for him not to act as his older cousin expected. “Because you see the ale I drink but you don’t see my tumbling! Do you know how much your – and, by association, mine – cousin can be annoying and indisputable _infuriating_?”

            “No, I don’t. And it makes me wonder why I see you two huddled together each morning like a pair of love birds, when none ever said a word about proper courting.”

            “Because…” Drogo searched in vain for fitting words. “Because I call her the sweetest names, and I treat her like the most delicate flower, and she just giggles at me and says things that make me feel stupid. And then, when I think I’ve been the worst person around her all day long, she drags her sleeping roll to my side and asks me if I would be so kind as to keep her warm in the chill of the night, and would you, dear Bilbo, deny her if it were you?”

            Bilbo looked at him, stunned.

            “No.”

            “Then, what do you suggest me? And what would you do in my place?”

            Sensing how much his female cousin was amiss, or at least, pretended to be amiss, of what was occurring around her, Bilbo recalled an advice her intended gave to his future sister-in-law.

            “Kiss her, stupid!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The soft knock on the door was enough for her to open her eyes a slit, but not much more. She felt better not being stored in the infirmary, considering she had no physical damages, but being in Thranduil’s homely quarters was not that comfortable too. Now she had a visitor and she didn’t have how to know if it was simply the healer, her nephew or the king. Anything different form these three options was temporarily out of question, she deemed. Aredhel made an effort to sound alive, at least.

            “Here.”

            The door was opened ajar and the little fellow she and Nellas had chosen to protect was there, walking slowly and unevenly closer to her, propped on a cane.

            “Lady Aredhel?” He said, after managing to reach her bed; she gazed in his direction, but no other muscle was moved. “I came to see you.”

            “You can see me.”

            It was not the nicest thing to say, but Ferumbras was used to her grumpiness and didn’t mind.

            “The healer allowed me to walk at will, with the promise that I don’t overdo. May I sit by you a little?” She just glanced at a chair and said nothing, and he took it as an acquiescence. “He said that if I keep my recovery at this pace, I’ll be able to travel in a week. Your painkilling bark helped a lot for me not to get worse, he said.” The wall gave him no answer, nor the elf. “You will come along, won’t you?” Not a blink. “Prince Legolas will be going, too. I heard he is your relative?”

            So the monologue went on for almost an hour, and he was pondering that, probably, a door would be more responsive to his talk, as it could at lest open and close. Getting depressed by Aredhel’s silence and lack of reaction, he finally gave up. Time to try Halsir’s plan.

            “I think I’ll go now, so you can rest without me bothering you. I’m going to the sewing atelier, Gwen is making a riding outfit for herself for when we go to Erebor and she promised to make one for me too, so I’m going for her to take my measures.”

            A frown knotted her eyebrows into a single silvery caterpillar.

            “That inutile mortal is going along with both you, to whom I swore to protect until reaching the dwarven kingdom, and my nephew, whom I hadn’t seen since he was a toddler?”

            “Err, so it seems, milady.”

            Her frown deepened, as if it was possible, and she shook her head lightly.

            “Someone stupid enough to get chased by a troll is bound to attract trouble. It won’t be safe to let her go along the way it is.”

            “But, she has to go to Erebor to get back to her world, or so I have heard. And, as we are going there…”

            “… we will have to babysit the human. Understood. I won’t bear this burden.”

            It was a bitter reaction, but at least she was reacting, which was an improvement, but Ferumbras felt somewhat harassed himself.

            “I’m sorry for me and my cousins having been a burden since Rivendell, me mostly.”

            She eyed him sidelong with a grunt.

            “You were not a burden, Master Halfling. It’s quite different to offer out of free will to escort a group of friends to my Lord Elrond and to have someone shoved into your care only because you are going the same way.” And she mumbled under her breath. “And shoved by Thranduil, by the way.”

            Aredhel fell into silence once more, eyes half closed, and Ferumbras was unsure of what to do; but then, as if having reached a resolution, the elf opened her eyes again and turned her head to face him.

            “If you find him, ask prince Legolas to come to me. I must talk to him.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Oblivious to Aredhel’s seething, said human was humming happily a Christmas carol while cutting the fabric she had drawn with chalk just moments before, with the help of an elf whose name was so long Gwen just cut it down to ‘Liriel’, asking mountains of apologies for not being able to pronounce it correctly. Liriel also explained the human that paper was a very expensive item, so it was not used to make paper models of the clothes that were to be sewn, instead they were thoroughly planned and then drawn directly on the fabric. It made her brain somersault a lot, but then, in Rome, do like the Romans, she thought, hopping it would work. At least for the smaller pieces she used paper from her drawing block, thanking the Lord again for her handbag with all her sewing stuff having survived everything that happened since she left the airplane.

            “I don’t know this fabric, how do you call it?”

            The elf said the name and Gwendolin continued as ignorant as before, but the seamstress gave her no more explanations. Noticing the girl’s curious look, she conceded some more.

            “It is of our own making. Since it is one of the items we commerce with other realms, it would not be wise to share the knowledge of how it is made.”

            “Ok, understood. No breaking of patents meant!”

            “I’m not sure if I understand your meaning, Lady Human, but I’m glad you understand my point, anyway.” Then the elf smiled lightly. “I really like the design you made for this chemise, would you mind if I make one this style for myself?”

            Gwendolin smiled brightly.

            “Of course not, I’d be proud!”

            “By the way, I’d suggest one addition to your outfit, if I may be so bold.”

            The human found it ridiculous how the elves were so walking on eggshells when speaking something different of what she was doing, as if it would be unfit to explain something that should be obvious, but obviously was not to her.

            “Of course, Lady Liriel, you are helping me so much, in everything! What would you suggest?”

            Liriel tilted her head and traced some imaginary lines on the corselet sketch.

            “If I were you, I’d make a hauberk instead of a corselet, or at least add a leather pauldron to ensure your shoulders protection. As it is, it is perfect for a ride in the neighbourhoods, but you are making for a fortnight travel, and even if our realm is quite safe, we heard news of trouble out of the skirts of the forest. It seems dwarves and men are not as efficient as us in keeping their borders safe from unwished for visitors, if you take my meaning, although they got rid of a dragon some years ago.”

            Wide eyed, Gendolin suppressed the urge to ask if a troll was not an unwished for visitor, but then she assumed the thing was not exactly on their _borders_ ; instead, she asked.

            “No, I don’t take it, I’m not from here; what unwished for visitors do you mean, beside clumsy women fleeing from trolls?”

            “Orcs, mostly.”

            “But… are we this close to the sea to have killer whales as a menace? And wouldn’t the orcas just keep in the sea?”

            The elf frowned, as confused as the woman.

            “I don’t understand you. We are more than one thousand hundred miles from the sea.”

            “Then how can there be orcas?”

            This time Liriel heard it better and noticed it was a different word from what she had said.

            “It is _orcs_ , not _orcas_.”

            Her struggle to get away from the subjects that forced her to believe the unbelievable made her mind wander to a swamp, but she wasn’t really aware. So, besides an elf called Legolas who knew a dwarf called Gimli and a that there was a hobbit called Bilbo Baggins that made a company of dwarves escape from an elven palace inside barrels, now she had to assume there where creatures called orcs that could attack her on her trip to Erebor. Great.

            “Ahn… what more do you deem useful to wear to my protection in this little travel?”

            To her relief, the elf was optimistic.

            “Not much more, really, as you will be travelling along with the prince himself and the captain of the guard, or so I have heard, besides your former companions, and Lady Aredhel is as skilled as one could dream of.” Liriel lowered her face to be closer to the human and whispered. “Is it true you saw her use her spear? And that she killed a troll all by herself?”

            Gwendolin went uncomfortable on the subject.

            “Yes, she killed it, but not all by herself. Lady Nellas made it look like a pincushion with her daggers before… before…”

            “Ouch, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… you know, I never witnessed death myself. I never lost someone close to me, like a relative, or a friend. Of course we all lost Lady Lossenel when she went to the West, and she was so a lovely queen, we miss her so much… but I never beheld a death.”

            Disturbing issue, Gwendolin thought to herself, but what to do?

            “I only saw a little cat dying, once. Sister Amanda found in on the sidewalk when she was coming from the grocery, and she swore it followed her to the orphanage, but everyone knew she had brought it home because Sister Amanda is simply too fond of animals and would not leave that tiny kitten out in the cold. We kids were just enthralled by having the kitten with us, because, in a way, we could relate, it was a _cat child_ that didn’t have a family, like we didn’t have one…” Gwendolin got so distracted she almost cut a fingernail while rambling. “But then one morning Sister Whoopi was called in a hurry to do I don’t know what… I think it was a child that was being abused by her father-in-law and the public defender just got an order for the toddler to be rescued, and…  she reared the car to get out and the kitten just was there behind the tire. Or, worse, part of the kitten.”

            “I don’t know what an orphanage, or a public defender is, not to mention a tire or a sidewalk, but I’m sorry for the kitten.”

            “Nevermind.” Gwendolin finished her cutting and took thread and needle out from her bag to baste the pieces of cloth and overcast them before sewing in earnest. Overcasting would be boring by hand, but at least the sewing would be faster. A knock on the door made them divert their attention from the fabric to see who was coming in after Liriel’s prompt answer.

            “Ha! There you are!” Halsir stepped briskly into the sewing atelier with a grin in his face. “Our Master Halfling would have come himself to deliver the news, but he’s overdone for today and I sent him to rest his wobbling limbs in the infirmary else he would collapse anytime.”

            Gwendolin stared at the healer, worried with her little friend.

            “What has he done, Doc? I thought he was resting, he said he would come for me to take some measures but he didn’t, so I assumed he had postponed it to have his rest.”

            “What he’s done? He’s done a revolution, if I should name it. But the one whose world is going to be turned upside down is you, Lady Human, so I’d better inform you of what has happened.”

            The young woman shook her head, flustered.

            “More upside down that it already has been turned? I doubt it!”

            “Ah, but you shouldn’t!” He turned to the seamstress elf. “Lady Laegrinteithagliriel, how much do you know about our Lady Lossenel’s departure?”

            She looked at her fingers, trying to look absentleminded, and answered with an arched eyebrow.

            “What everybody knows, Master Healer; our queen went in a saddened state some years after our prince’s birth, and decided on leaving to the West.”

            He nodded slightly to confirm her version.

            “All of us believed this story; but Lady Aredhel brought us sad news about her sister. Queen Lossenel didn’t make to the Gray Havens. Her bitter sadness took her from our world before she could reach it and sail to Valimar.”

            Gwendolin followed the exchange of information with curiosity, but she didn’t make much out of the data she heard except for a name.

            “Is this the same Lady Lossenel you mentioned before?” She asked, turning to the seamstress, who just nodded to endorse what the human questioned, sending a really saddened look to the floor. Gwendolin turned to the healer. “What is this stuff of going into the West? I thought it was an allegory to dying, but then it seems they are different things.”

            The healer shook her head at the human woman, already used to the idea that she was oblivious to what was reality to them.

            “Us elves have the choice to sail away from this world to Valinor, the land of the Valar – they are the Powers who helped Erú, the Father of All, to create the world and everything that there is. Besides, every being of Erú’s creation, plus the dwarves, who have been allowed by Him to be, have a place of rest and of waiting after the worldly struggles of life, until the End comes. When one dies, even an elf, one goes to the Halls of Waiting, the Hall of Mandos. We believed our beloved Queen had sailed to Valinor, to live in bliss until the end of the days, but now we know she died, and must be in the Halls of Waiting.”

            “Sorry, Doc, but I still don’t grasp the meaning of this.”

            He heaved a sigh.

            “It means that the ones who love her will only have the chance to see her again in the end of time, unless they die before it comes. Not a very exciting prospect, I’d say.”

            “Elbereth!” Sighed Liriel. “How did our prince take this news? He must be devastated!”

            “He is. But this also made clear to him why Lady Aredhel never came to visit him, even if he is her only living relative. Her disgust to be in the presence of our King Thranduil, which she holds responsible for her sister’s death, has always been greater than the wish to see her only nephew.”

            “I would be very sad if I knew I had an aunt and she never visited me; but I understand her restrictions against the King must be very strong, indeed.”

            “Indeed.” Agreed the healer.

            “But what does all this sad story to do with my world being about to be turned upside down?”

            “Ha! Now we go to the interesting part of our plan. Lady Aredhel is completely grieving for Lady Nellas, and I was really afraid she could fall to the same overpowering sadness that takes some of our people now and then, as I explained to you the other day. The trick is to keep her mind busied while her heart heals, and busied with something that is meaningful enough to make her want to accomplish it. That’s where you get into the story.”

            Gwendolin frowned, fearing where that could lead to.

            “The only way I think I can make her get her mind busied is if she is given a chance to kill me. Doc, she hates me, don’t you remember?”

            “It might be, but she hates Thranduil more than she hates you, if she hates you at all, and this is how things will work.”

            “I’m still clueless.”

            “Our king is not so bad or insensitive as some may believe; when I talked to him he agreed to the plan. So, that’s how our Halfling got so exhausted today, as he took upon himself the task of getting everyone involved into the quarrel at the same time, save for you.”

            “Quarrel? Has there been any fight?”

            “Fight? No, not yet, anyway. Master Ferumbras told Lady Aredhel that you would be with them in the trip to Erebor; she got angry because she deems you unable to protect yourself and an attractor of trouble.”

            “I don’t know if I can disagree with her…”

            “Then she made Ferumbras call Prince Legolas and said she wanted you to be trained at least in self defense, else you put everyone in danger. He told her it could only be done with his father’s approval, so Ferumbras went to call the king, and as I had asked him before if he would help us in the plan, he went to her chambers at once and denied the plea.”

            “What? Didn’t you just say he agreed to help?”

            “And he did! When he denied her wish for you to be trained by Legolas or any of his subjects, he put her soul on fire and gave her a purpose. Now she will train you herself just to transgress his choice.”

            “It doesn’t make much sense to me, but nothing is making much sense since some days ago.”

            “Don’t worry, everything is working according to the plan.”

            “But I never had any plan to be close to any weapon at all, most of all any weapon in _her_ hands! What if she gets angry and kills me?”

            “Well, that’s why I asked if were sure you were willing to help…”

            The woman got stunned for a moment, unable to believe how she had been tricked into so a risky plan – and risky to _her_ , especially.

            “No, Doc, wait! I want to help her, I really want, I don’t want her to die of grief, but I don’t want to die either! No, I cannot…”

            Halsir shook his head with a humph.

            “Ah, humans! I heard they are not reliable, but I didn’t believe you would cower at the first chance. It is so easy to say fervently you want to help and at the first trouble to find millions of reasons to bolt.”

            The desired effect of making Gwendolin’s blood to boil was achieved, and she towered over him even being one foot shorter.

            “Don’t you suggest that I’m fleeing off my responsibilities! I said I will help her, and help her I will, even if I get a bruise or a cut in the process! Gwendolin Browne can be many things, sir, but a coward is something she is not!”

            The elf worked hard to refrain to smile, but managed to only nod in acquiescence.

            “Will you hold on to your word, then?”

            “Sure as the rain is wet, mister!”

            Now a slight smile graced his lips.

            “If I’m able, I’ll take you to the training field tomorrow morning; if not, someone else will be there for you.”

            “Great to hear there will be need of a healer nearby!”

            “Need? No, not at all! It’s just that I would not miss it for anything in this world!”

            Liriel gave her contribution too.

            “I can lead you there tomorrow, Lady Human, even if Master Halsir is able to.”

            “Why would you do it?” Gwendolin asked with a frown.

            “It is not only him who would not miss this training session for anything in this world!”

            The woman crossed her arms protectively of herself.

            “Great, it is going to be show, then. At least it should mean less chance to be stabbed on purpose, if there are witnesses.”

            The seamstress tried to amend the (not completely) wrong impression her words made.

            “It’s not like that, it’s just that Lady Aredhel is living a legend amongst us! Everyone will want to see her fight if given a chance.”

            Halsir agreed.

            “Yes, she fought against the dark forces of Sauron side by side with Gil-Galad, three thousand years ago.”

            The woman gulped dry, as flashes of a movie ran before her eyes.

            “Three… _thousand_ …years ago… Sauron…” Too much coincidence. Too much. She had had enough of it.

            “Ok, now you’ll tell me there’s a guy named Elrond that lives in Rivendell?” The synchronized nod of the elves made her get a little dizzy. She was no expert but she remembered some things of the movies. “And a blonde named Galadriel who lives in a forest?” The elves just exchanged glances. “And a wizard clad in gray with a pointed hat a staff of twiggy thingies?”

            “A staff of _what_?”
    
    
               “You know, the…” Then she brought her forearms up with the back of hands together, pointing the fingers upward and spread in a circle; she wiggled her fingers and completed in an ominous sounding voice. “... _staff of many twiggy thingies_.”

            Halsir tilted her head to Liriel.

            “It is obvious she is talking about Mithrandir.” He turned back to the woman. “Yes, there is. So...?”

            She shook her head, as if wishing a nightmare to wear off, and fingered her father’s ring under the collar of her dress, making a resolution.

            “Nope. Everything is fine, the butterflies fly, the violets are blue, and if you are in hell let’s dance with the devil. It was a pleasure to know you both, buddies, and now I’m going to say my goodbyes to Ferum, if you don’t mind. I have classes with Lady Aredhel tomorrow and I don’t want to be late to my own funeral. Bye!”


	29. In The Boat

            It had been weeks since Drogo stopped Primula’s rambling on how people back in the Shire would accept Bilbo’s otherwordly wife with a kiss that cut away her breath and made her blush like a girl in her _betweens_. She was past that age when anything made a girl blush, and had had her share of out of view kisses, but had been properly courted only once, and it had been a disaster, so she had been avoiding any chance of a serious relationship for some years now. So it was that Drogo’s attention on her was kind of… not understandable by her, to say the least. Not that she wasn’t a pretty lass, with a high amount of qualities, but she always thought that her being some years ahead of the age most girls married made her less desirable by any hobbit aiming a serious outcoming from a night of dancing and merrymaking, or of any amount of strolling in the fields and sharing of afternoon teas. Primula didn’t feel old, but she feared others would see her like that. So it was that Drogo’s attention on her had been really hard to believe.

            Not that Drogo was any kind of young stallion that could chose the lass he wished; as a matter of fact he was almost at the age when most people would start to call him a bachelor. But they had known each other their entire lives (he was twelve when she was born), and being Bilbo’s cousins favored their chances to meet at Bag End’s never ending storytellings and of joining in every sort of adventurous ideas their older relative stuck his mind to. But then, Primula never noticed Drogo glancing at her the way she saw along the journey, nor his caring words and gestures he lavished on her mostly after the avalanche. What was it? Had it never been there, or had she never noticed it? Primula was wringing her mind to figure it out when Drogo kissed her in so a passionate way she almost lost her mind, never to mention her breath and her senses. But Lake-Town presented her a new mark.

            Drogo dragged Primula by the hand after him, escaping the crowd in the feasting hall of Lake-Town, promising her a surprise. She followed him with a mischievous smile and a quick wink to Beryl, who answered with a matching wink. Soon they were out, Bilbo distracted by some speech and her nephews Saradoc and Merimac merrily showing a typical hobbit dance on the table along with Ferdinand, mugs of ale spilling drips on the neighbour humans who were so drunk that didn’t mind some drops of ale flying over them. Dudo seemingly ignored their escape.

            “What is this?”

            Primula asked with half a smile on her lips, making dimples show on her cheeks.

            Drogo pulled her closer to him and carded her locks with his fingers, questioning himself why he never got used to her hair being so soft to his fingers, and her skin so delicate and redolent to his senses. She was perfect, and he had been blind to it for so many years…

            “This…” He gazed around, making clear he meant her to look at the sky. “These are lights of blessing.” His hands traveled her arms and then her back, bringing her closer to him. “And these are hands of caring.” Drogo uplifted a hand and touched her face lightly, almost worshipingly. “And this is a promise of unending love.”

            Their kiss was hungry and their hands matched it, searching for each one as they could. All Primula wanted to hear had been in Drogo’s lips, a short version of the promises a hobbit couple would share in a proper wedding, but the core of the promise was there, nonetheless. When her hands reached his waist and dared to travel a little lower than this, she heard him whimper and couldn’t stand her own urge.

            “The… the moon is so beautiful, what do you think of looking at it from the middle of the lake?”

            At first Drogo thought looking at the moon was the thing he was least worried about, but then he got the idea. Primula was younger than him, but she was no faunt.

            “Would it please you?”

            Her earnest eyes dared his.

            “Whatever you do, I would be pleased.”

            Drogo had never been in the company of a hobbit-lass that looked into his eyes with such an urge, such an _urgency_ , and be sure it was aimed at _him_. With Primula, he _knew_. She wanted _him_ , as much as he wanted _her_ , and he could not even think about leaving her urge unattended.

            “I want to please you.”

            Suspiciously enough, a boat man came to them asking if it was them who asked for a boat ride, but they were on such a fire that they didn’t care about logics right then. Drogo produced some coins and granted them a ride with no oarsman aboard, even if he had no experience with boats at all. All he could think about was Primula, there, by him, her eyes on fire, asking him to take her away from the shore, saying she would be _pleased_ with whatever he’d do to her. Any rational thought left him with not even a flutter.

            “We’ll take the boat ride, thank you very much.” He made an effort to unlock his gaze from Primula’s and to look at the boat man. “We’ll be glad to mention to the Lord of the Town and to the King Under the Mountain how this people has been kind to us.”

            The boat man bowed with a smile, and left the halfling lovebirds to themselves and the small boat with securely settled oars, counting the coins he’d already been given. Primula stepped into the boat and Drogo made his best not to look uncomfortable with the oar shafts in his hands.

            It took no more than a dozen rowings to put them far away enough from the town so that it’s lights didn’t disturb the view of the stars and moon, but close enough for them to be at a shout distance from the piers. Even so, Drogo managed to put the boat in the shadows, making his and Primula’s presence inconspicuous, and asked her.

            “We have the night, the moon and the stars, and a place out of view, everything just for us. What do you want me to do to please you?”

            Primula brought her knees up to her chest and embraced them, with a side smirk, perceiving the trap she settled for herself, and happy for the trap. Things didn’t have the habit to work according to her wishes, why shouldn’t she enjoy the first time in life it happened?

            “Do… do caress me… do make me feel the heat of your skin belongs to me… do make me feel I belong to you… and that you belong to me…”

            Drogo’s heart was almost pumping his way out of his chest when he drew Primula to his body, almost unable to believe the meaning of the words she whispered into his ears. Then he made up his mind: if she was to discard him, it would be there, and then. If not, it would also be there and then that he would show her how he meant to treat her when they were back to the Shire, married and blessed by any accounts. He had to show he was hers like he felt she was his. He leant forward and kissed her, lightly at first, deepening the kiss as she opened her lips to him, teasing and biting him according to the eagerness she showed and that he didn’t expect. She straightened her legs and brought him all over her body, enjoying his weight on her, his eager hands rubbing her breasts and making her go ablaze.

            “Prim, I…”

            “Shhh…”

            She brought the hand he was trying to touch her face to her lips, kissing and suckling his fingers as he never dreamt behaved Primula would ever do. It scared him, and he stopped for a moment.

            “Primula?”

            Drogo’s strange voice brought her back to the world, but she was not willing to let their estrangement last long.

            “I take your promise of unending love, Drogo Baggins, and I take the caring of your hands, and I take the lights of blessing the stars are shedding on us.”

            He hid his face in her neck, refueling himself of her scent, unbelieving of how lucky he felt and of how eager he felt Primula under his body. It was completely improper, they both knew it, but something in the chilly night wind, something in the moonshine, something was making them send any sense of property to Mordor. She was accepting his promise, she was accepting _him_ , and Drogo knew she was the one for him.        Drogo nibbled her earlobe while cupping one breast with a hand, the other rubbing her side through the fabric of her gown, and she moaned in reply. The Lake-Town people provided them with clothes like they did for the Company, and exactly like happened to Iris then, a gown fit to her height was a child sized one, unfit for her adult female body, only highlighting the perfect roundness of her breasts and the firm shape of her hips. He trailed her neck and up her jawline, returning to her mouth eagerly.

            When they parted Primula gasped for air, her mouth slightly open in a smile that made Drogo’s world to spin. By the Valar, she was so perfect! She touched his face with delicate fingertips, and her whisper almost made him go crazy.

            “Drogo, unlace my bodice.”

            “Wha… _what_?”

            She giggled.

            “It is too tight, I can’t breathe!”

            “Oh…”

            He straddled her, feeling it awkward, and untied the laces that held her bodice not so close as it should. Once able to breath deeply, the result was her breasts were free to his adoration gaze, only concealed by the thin fabric of her gown.

            “Most beautiful flower of the Shire…”

            Drogo cupped both of them and lowered his head, hiding his face in her bosom, and Primula ruffled his dark hair, entangling her fingers, moaning softly at his dedicate ministrations. Her hips moved to be closer to him, and her ankle found its way around his leg, and she rubbed his calf with the inner side of her bare foot, sending shivers through his entire body.

            “You’ll make me go insane!”

            She grabbed his hair and made him look at her.

            “You already made me!”

            He propped himself up on an elbow and gazed deep into her eyes.

            “Let us go back to the house they lent us, everybody is at the feast, we’ll find a comfortable place with none around and…” He noticed her look changing from fire to anger and feared to have been to bold, assuming she wished the same as him, and tried to set things right. “If this is what you wish, of course. I’ll never do anything against your wish, understood?”

            “Do you want to know what I wish, Drogo Baggins?” He just nodded, curious as her eyes drifted again from anger to fire. “I wish to be _free_. I wish to be the lass I never have been allowed to be, I wish to forget I’m a proper hobbit lady and a Brandybuck atop of it, I wish to get wild in the arms of the one I love, and to be loved back. I’ve been a caged bird for too long, Drogo, too long have I been treated as the tiny younger daughter, the younger sister of the master of Brandyhall, and there will be no other journey for me to find my path into freedom.”

            He swallowed hard at her outburst, never having imagined sweet Primula to have such strong urges of trespassing borders, then traced her lips with a finger, unable to find words fit for the moment that would not collide with the maelstrom in his chest. Instead, he asked, simply, with half a smile in the corner of his mouth.

            “What do you wish me to do, daughter of Mirabella Took?”

            She ran her hands along his sides and then one of them very meaningfully made for his pants.

            “Unlock my cage.”

            “W-what?”

            “You heard me. You said you’d never do anything against my wishes, so I tell you what I wish.” She grabbed his hands and made Drogo touch her rougher than before, leading one hand to her skirt, crossing her legs around his. “Make me _free_ , unlock my _cage_ , allow the wild animal in me to _live_!”

            Drogo shook his head, speechless. Every of her words and actions only contributed to the complete breaking down of his walls, and any chance of him having an ounce of self control was quickly drowning in the same maelstrom his sense of property had already wrecked into. For the much he knew her, for the time they had spend talking to each other the last months, he knew she was being serious, and not complying with her demand was a real risk of losing her right after having found his courage to court her. His heart skipped a beat when he decided and whispered to her.

            “It might hurt, you know.”

            “I don’t care!”

            The fire in her eyes told him she really didn’t, but Drogo himself was not quite that sure of everything he thought she meant.

            “But… but _here_?”

            “Here… and _now_ …” Primula gritted her teeth as she demanded. “ _Uncage me_!”

            Any chance of Drogo keeping his decorum went to ashes. He had rowed the boat to a dark spot and no window spread any light in their direction, the borders of the boat were high enough to conceal them while lying on its bottom, the woman he loved was demanding him to claim her, and he could not dream on denying her, not without a considerable amount of effort that he saw no reason to spend.

            Drogo felt awkward untying his trousers in the middle of a lake, but more awkward yet to see Primula gather her skirts to her waist and get rid of her panties, much to the surprise of the fisher who hooked it the next day. He didn’t think it made her less of a proper lass for him to marry, as he really intended to marry her; they just were having their wedding night beforehand, and considering how many years they were been close friends it didn’t seem that awkward; moreover, considering the risks their journey made them go through, mostly after leaving Rivendell, the notion that a life could be lost in a moment was not stranger to him. The woman he loved wished him _now_ , and he would comply to her _now_.

            “Hold on.”

            Primula grabbed his shoulders and shut her eyes, with a bad expectation even if she wanted it to be done, but the pain she foresaw didn’t come. Instead she felt his hardness slide close to her core, his hand caressing the inner side of her tights, sending shivers down her spine, and his kisses down her throat and collarbone. Her breath went faster, enjoying the caress he was lavishing on her skin, and she made her best to unbutton the blouse of her gown with Drogo teasing her to madness.

            The halfling took advantage of her gumption and headed down to nibble her nips, tracing her aureolas with his tongue, trying hard to keep his urge in check. He wanted her so bad, but didn’t dare to take her in the urge of his lust. Even if she demanded him, he knew she didn’t know what it was she was asking for, and he would not make her regret her decision. He was moving his hips to hers, going mad on the heat of her flesh touching his organ, feeling the wetness her yet untouched folds lavished on his manhood. Primula groaned under him and then it was too much for him to hold back.

            Drogo retreated some inches and found her entrance, probing it with his member already slick with his precum and her wetness; Primula bit her lower lip in expectation and Drogo could hold back no more.

            Her whimper was short, quickly replaced by heavy breaths as the reality of his manhood inside her downed on her. It hurt, doubtless it hurt, Drogo was like a fire inside her body, claiming her to be someone she had never been. It hurt, every thrust hurt, but she wanted it, it was her breakthrough, her freedom’s gate, her step into a world she didn’t know out of experience but that she knew was there, real, enjoyed by so many couples even after many years of marriage. To break through a frontier was not expected to be painless.

            Drogo made his best to hold himself back, to move slowly, to move according to her movements, but it was impossible to be quiet when her body moved against his, when her breath matched his, when her face shifted from pain to pleasure as he moved inside her, so tight, so hot, so… _Primula_ …

            He grabbed her arms to bring her closer to him as he suddenly found it impossible to hold back, and overflew her core with the result of his pleasure, filling her with his essence. Even if his rational side prayed there would be no child born out of wedlock, there was a piece of him that wondered how a fauntling of theirs would be, and that wished this fauntling to be true as soon as possible. Drogo propped his hand on the border of the boat as he looked deep into her gazelle eyes.

            “Prim, I love you, I…”

            She tried to sit closer to his side and their world turned upside down.

            Really.


	30. Thou Shalt Keep Thy Staff

            “This has been positively the most stupid idea you both had in this whole journey!”

            Bilbo scolded the two trembling figures in front of him, whilst Beryl fixed a pair of mugs of hot tea for them. Dudo put more wood in the fireplace to make the room more comfortable for the almost drowned rats that shivered under a pile of heavy blankets.

            “But, Uncle!”

            “The night was so beautiful, and the moon was shining so bright, and…”

            “And is it reason enough for you to forget any sense of self preservation and go alone on a _boat ride_?”

            “I was not alone, I was with Drogo!”

            Bilbo slapped his hand on his forehead, wincing at the logic of his young cousin.

            “Primula Brandybuck, to be in a boat with someone who has no clue of how to use an oar is technically the same as being alone!”

            Drogo protested.

            “I _do have_ a clue! You are to hold the _shaft_ of the oar, not the _paddle_ , for instance!”

            Dudo ruffled affectionately the still damp dark mop of hair of his older brother.

            “Right, but this is not enough to keep a boat from wobbling like a drunken Took.”

            Paladin whacked his head with a hand while holding a bowl of hot broth with the other.

            “A drunken Took is more able to fish a Baggins out of a lake than you!”

            “Yes, and almost getting drowned too!”

            “Can you all just stop bickering like this?” Demanded Bilbo, hands on his hips, addressing each one in turn. “Paladin, albeit I admire your courage in plunging into the lake in an attempt to save Drogo and Primula, I must remind you of you inability to swim properly for yourself, what more to rescue someone else. On the other hand, Dudo, rolling on the pier floor laughing at your brother’s accident was definitely not a help. Beryl, your efforts in providing your cousins opportunities to be on themselves must take in account their safety over their privacy; and Drogo and Primula, next time you both think about something romantic to do, do it _ashore_!”

            The five hobbits sent contrite looks to their older cousin, whom they regarded more as an uncle since they were fauntlings and he enthralled them with his stories of adventures and dwarves and elves. Now they were on a real adventure with him, with a bunch of elves and some days from the realm of the dwarves, being chidden by said uncle for their misdoings. Culuin chose that moment to enter the living room, finishing to dry his silvery hair with a towel.

            “Don’t be so angry at them, Bilbo, they’ve done nothing out of ill will, it was sheer accident.”

            “One that could have been avoided, and that could have ended in tragedy, weren’t it for you and Figwit!”

            Bilbo fumed, unwilling to belittle the graveness of said accident.

            “We had an eye on them all the time since they left the feasting hall, Bilbo. Actually, none of you had been unwatched since we left Imladris. Elrond wouldn’t chose us if we weren’t capable to keep one eye on you.”

            Primula blushed vividly and Figwit emerged from the corridor that led to the sleeping rooms and took a mug of hot tea for himself, even if he and Culuin weren’t shivering like the halflings.

            “Elladan, Elrohir and Estel are there with the young ones, although I don’t believe they will be able to get themselves in more trouble than a hangover in the morrow.”

            Bilbo shook his head lightly, still annoyed. The stay in Lake-Town should be a short and merry one, not one stained with the menace of a tragedy.

            “I know, Figwit, my friend, but see, I feel so… _bad_ about this, I would never bring my cousins if I had a clue that it would be so _dangerous_! After all these years, knowing the dwarves have established a commercial route between Ered Luin and Erebor, I was _sure_ it would be safer, and then, what happens?” He begun to number it on his fingers. “An avalanche with two frozen cousins, a goblin attack with one arrowed and poisoned cousin, a boat ride with almost _three_ drowned cousins…” He sent a significant look to Paladin. Figwit untangled an imaginary knot in his hair and stated.

            “But all of them are sound and safe, as far as we know. We know Thranduil’s people have been sent to look for Ferumbras and the girls, what could possibly go wrong?”

            Bilbo opened his mouth to say something when Beorn stormed inside the house they had been given to use in their short stay in Lake-Town. None was willing to deny anything to a member of the Company of Dwarves that freed them from the threat of the dragon and returned their town to a prosperous one, and the lending of the house was just one of the many gifts that were being lavished on them since their arrival that morning. Tonight they had a feast and tomorrow they’d be hitting the road again. The bear of a man would have looked disturbing weren’t for the black squirrel perched on his shoulder. Squirrel or no, his words were of bad omen.

            “She’s been lost!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            After a zillion of apologies to Rärc and promises of never mentioning the want of raven feathers again in his life, Wolfram did not know what else to do to quell the angry birds temper, taking a mental note that the developers of Angry Birds probably had never seen a bird as angry as Rärc, or as indignant as Crîck, else the game would be named something like Furious Birds, Berserk Birds, Rampageous Birds, or simply Raving Ravens. Knee was lecturing his little sister about being mean to friends and what would Dada and Mama say when they heard what she’d done, almost bringing the little one to tears, when Bifur intervened. Oblivious to what the Kuzdhul words meant, Wolfram watched his little niece fumbling with her hair and coming close to the ravens with the most contrite look possible.

            “ _So’wy, mi’ter Rä’c, so’wy, C’îck.”_

            Kim managed to use some kind of title for the raven king, but Crîck was her sister’s age and only recently begun to try to act maturely, on behalf of her coming of age, so it wasn’t natural for her to add anything to the female raven’s name. Both birds turned to the offending dwelfling, expectantly, and the girl reached out her hand, opening her palm.

            “Won’t do it _nonomore_!”

            The ravens eyed the sparkling bead in the girl’s hand, and exchanged glances, as if to consent amongst themselves that the compensations was acceptable. Also, Kim’s large kitten eyes were too much for them to begrudge her their forgiveness.

            “Crrr. Apologies accepted.” Rärc turned to the adult dwarves and said, finishing the meeting. “We will see you at the banquet tonight. Fare you well!”

            With this he took the bead in Kim’s hand while Crîck took the one handled by Nori and they flew away with their prizes in their beaks.

           

ooo000ooo

 

            “Ain’t we late to go home?”

            “Not really, little one.” Answered Glóin to Iris while they walked along a wide corridor. “Bifur’s house is not far from the royal dwellings, and it must be two hours before sunset yet, which gives us plenty of time for you to see Radagst before heading home.”

            “How can you possibly know the time of the day if we are stuck miles inside the mountain?”

            The red bearded dwarf chuckled at the human wizard.

            “For one, by the shade of the light in the mirror devices; and then, we are dwarves, mister Wolfram, children of the stone. If _we_ are unable to keep our timing inside the mountain, who else would be able to?”

            “Weird...” Said Lily. “I have been a dwarrowdam for just a little time, but I think I understand what you mean. It is like I could feel the changes of the daytime around me, in the air, like I would feel the changes of the breeze and the sun outside. At first I thought I was becoming insane, but then it seems it is just the way things are.”

            “Yes, it is, cousin.” Knee agreed, eager to show his knowledge on their species. “It is the same when you take an ore in your hands and you know by the feel of it which minerals it contains, and how much, and its quality.”

            “Or when you known how the metal will bend under your hammer, or the stone break under your chisel.”

            Frérin could not lose his chance to claim Lily’s attention too. She just laughed lightly.

            “And are you boys already skilled in mining and smithing?”

            “Of course we are!” Came the indignant response. “Not that Father allows us to go to the mines often, but I have even found a cat’s eye apatite once!”

            “Ha!” Cried Knee. “Nothing compared to the moonstone I found!”

            “But Mother made _my_ cat’s eye to be set in a necklace, not your moonstone!”

            “Because Father made _my_ moonstone to be set in his sword!”

            Bifur grunted something and opened an inconspicuous door to their left, ending the bickering the younglings’ show of abilities had turned into. After having his cousins married, the toy-making warrior had chosen to dwell alone, even if both insisted that he moved to live with them. He argued that moving with any of the new founded families would be umbrageous to the other, and that this way Bofur and Bombur would always have somewhere to take a break of homely routines if they wanted. The result was that often it was his home that was chosen for small family gatherings (that were getting bigger as the families grew), so both Zirc and Dahl could head home anytime when they got tired and not have to deal with the aftermath of a party.

            Now he was hosting Radagast the Brown, along with his bunch of rabbits. Oddly enough, Bifur’s disabilities in communicating in Westron meant no problem at all, and he and the wizard got along fairly well; the bunnies behaved well, and spent part time with the children, be it the heirs of Durin or Bifur’s nephews, mostly both of them, as they used to pack as wolves, plus Rori, when Ori and Ras managed to get him past Dori’s protective wings, which was not often.

            The children waited for no invitation to run inside the house, used that they were of the old toy-maker’s affection. He had never married, nor intended to, but his care and love for children was beyond measure. Glóin and Nori left at the door, heading to their own dwellings to get ready for the banquet, needing a really good grooming to their braids. Ylm was expert to it, and should have Gimli ready by now, as well as her own beard. Freshly done braids were mandatory in so a luxurious event, the welcoming of the heroes of out of the Circles of Arda, plus the greeting of a foreign delegation of a realm with high probability of becoming an ally and trade partner.

            As soon as the last kid put his foot in the living room, Radagst’s rabbits tackled them down in an affectionate show of friendship; the leader of the sled, a brown coloured female named Hazel, touched noses with Kim, making the girl giggle for the first time since the incident with the ravens. Smiling at this, Wolfram entered the room, followed by his daughters.

            As soon as he put his foot in the living room, Radagast’s staff made connection with his head, to which he uplifted surprised arms in self defense, but the staff had already moved to find his ribs. Wolfram doubled in two, a hand on the offended rib and the other reaching out to try to block the next blow, unsuccessfully. The third blow whacked on his shoulder and sent him to the ground like a heap of smashed potatoes.

            “Durin’s beard!”

            “Can you just stop this, for goodness sake?”

            Lily and Iris complained to the brown wizard, as they tried to put their father back on his feet, or at least in a sitting position. The hobbit fingered his rib to be sure it wasn’t broken whilst the dwarf-lass examined his shoulder.

            “What... what is this supposed to mean?” The human managed to say, grasping for air. The brown wizard looked unabashed.

            “You were told to bring your staff.”

            “Humpf. Nice to meet you too, after all these years.” Wolfram grumbled. Radagast narrowed his eyes.

            “Indeed...”

            “Ouch, come on, can somebody lend us a hand here?” Complained Iris. “Father is not a small being, we’d have difficulty to put him up even if we weren’t downsized!”

            Bifur hurried to grab his arm, and Knee knelt to prop him with his own shoulder under his other arm, trying to show he was stronger than his years. Wolfram stumbled to an armchair, from where he sent daggers to his compulsory master in wizardry, a degree he had never applied to, not conscious of it, anyway.

            “Now, may you please enlighten me on why, on all Valar names, have I been welcomed in such an _affectionate_ way?”

            The brown wizard eyed him with a look that obviously meant it should be obvious.

            “You were told to bring your staff.”

            “Yes, Master, and so I’ve done!” Wolfram shook his head, wincing to the pain in his forehead where the staff had hit him, trying to show more mature than he felt, even at forty-nine. “Is it any kind of hazing of freshman? Because if it is, I must warn you that I don’t tolerate bullying!”

            It would be frightening if not coming out of so a gentle giant, and Radagast acted as if ignoring any underlying threat.

            “I can’t see your staff in your hands, o Wolfram the Green! What kind of magic did you use to hide it from my view?”

            “What? No, no magic! Of course it is not here, I left in my room at my sister’s home!”

            Radagast made to hit him again and Wolfram uplifted his arms and grabbed the staff before it hit his head.

            “And what will you say when an agent of the Darkness comes to you?” The wizard tiptoed along the room, much to the entertainment of whoever wasn’t Wolfram. ‘ _Oh, just a minute, Melkhor’s breed, I’m going retrieve my staff in my sister’s closet, I’ll be right back!_ ’

            The human stood up, towering at least two feet over his master, his voice and face showing he was not entertained at all.

            “Why would I drag my staff along inside the very realm of Erebor?  If I can’t deem as safe the insides of _this_ mountain, _where_ should I feel safe?”

            Radagast touched Wolfram’s chin ligthly with the tip of his staff.

            “When you are in Valimar, under the shadow of Taniquëtil and the blessings of Manwë and Varda; when you are in Valinor, stepping the shores of Ulmo and the forests of Oromë; when our Lady Yavanna touches you face and tells you to rest; then, then and there, my friend, you shall feel safe. Until then…” He lowered his staff and gazed deeply in the gray-blue eyes of the man. “You are prey.”

            Even so the tall man didn’t flinch, and stomped behind the wizard who was currently rummaging in a pack of his.

            “Are you trying to make me paranoid?

            “By Yavanna’s roots, are you dumb? I’m trying to make you stay alive!”

            Radagast turned back to him with a dark green felt skullcap in his hands.

            “Here!” He put the barret on Wolfram’s head, its tab almost covering his gray blue eyes and warm flaps covering his ears. It seemed a little heavy for the fabric it was made, and the man wondered why. But it was comfortable, nonetheless. The brown wizard took a step back to admire his deed. “It will work, yes it will.”

            “Work? Well, it seems fit for the upcoming winter, for sure.”

            “A tab for shading the sun of Harad, and flaps to protect your ears from the icy winds of Helcaraxë.” He mumbled to himself, then. “And something more, but he will find it out in time.”

            “Wait, wait, I’ll have no time to travel not even to the Shire, I’m going back to my world in little more than a month!”

            “Yes, yes, but it doesn’t keep you from being prepared for whatever might be to come, be it here or there.” They both took seats while the girls helped Bifur to fix a tea and cookies for them all and the kids played with the rabbits in the nearby room. “We have little time for your training. We start tomorrow morning.”

            Wolfram nodded in agreement.

             “I don’t know what this training encompasses, or how long it shall take, but I agree, let us start it right away. Where do we meet?”

            “You’ll find me outside the front Gate. The innards of a mountain are not fit to learn what you are to learn, at least not now.”

            “All right. Something I should take besides the staff?”

            Radagast scratched his beard, evaluating the greenhorn in front of him.

            “I will leave this is for you to figure out by yourself. I’m sure you are experienced enough to know what you need for an outing.”

            The man was about to say something when Bifur and the girls came with a teapot of a steaming infusion and a tray of cookies.

            “Hmm, this smells delicious! Thank you very much, my friend!”

            Bifur grunted something with a smile and took his own mug of tea. After a silent cookie, he resumed the talk, this time in Iglishmêk, to which the girls were more acquainted and able to translate to their father, and so they talked quietly for a while, comfortably sipping their tea. The relative peace was interrupted by a sudden cry of joy from little Kim, who came running to them.

            “Really really, _mi´ter Dadadast_? Really really?”

            “Really really what, little squirrel?”

            She was far too excited to make any sense in her rambling.

            “Really really little bunnies? Really really?”

            “Well, I figure my furry friends here are not quite fit to be called little, my little one.”

            “But _Hazy_!” She protested.

            “You see, Hazel is the oldest of them all, and the largest, too, she could hardly be called a _little bunny_ anymore.”

            The girl was irreducible.

            “But _Hazy_ has!”

            The brown wizard frowned.

            “Hazel has what, I wonder?”

            She spread out her arms in a wide gesture of joy.

            “ _Hazy_ has _LITTLE_ _BUNNIES_!”

            Radagast dropped his jaw as if the girl had grown an extra head, the shook his own.

            “No, no, she cannot, she is too old! It would not be healthy for her, it…” He stood up and made for the room the kids were playing with the rabbits. “Hazel!” He called. “By the Valar, Hazel, come here now! You have something to explain, I presume!”

            Soon the large brown rabbit came out, her ears flat on the sides of her head, a positively mischievous look in her dark eyes. She hop to his feet and put her paws gently on his shin, only to be uplifted and cradled like a baby in the wizard’s arms. He gazed deeply into her large, aqueous eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. She hid her nose in his neck and he shook his head, unbelieving. He took his seat again, still holding the large rabbit in his lap, a look of disconsolation in his face.

            “It could not happen, no, it is not right…”

            “What is wrong? Don’t rabbits litter all the time?” Iris was curious, but the wizard only shook his head.

            “Hazel is too old, it is not healthy for her anymore, and she will deliver in winter, we should be on the road by then, or soon after, it can be dangerous both for her and the bunnies…”

            Bifur prompted a solution, promptly translated by Lily so her father would understand.

            “He sais she can stay here by him as long as needed, all winter long and spring too, if you wish, until it is safe for her to travel with the little ones.”

            The brown wizard’s eyes watered at the offer.

            “It is too kind of you, my friend!”

            He stood up to embrace the dwarf, almost dropping the rabbit in the process. Kim was fast in taking the brown furry heap in her own arms, finding only reasons to be happy.

            “I _knew Hazy_ has bunnies!”

            Wolfram looked at her, narrowing his eyes.

            “By the way, how is it that you _knew_ it, Kim?”

            The girl tilted her head at her tall uncle.

            “ _Kee_ _know_!”

            “Yes, I understand you know, but _how_?”

            She shook her head, clueless.

            “ _Kee don’t know_!” She turned to Radagast and Bifur, serious. “ _Kee_ help take care of _Hazy_ and bunnies, _Kee_ will be good good good girl and help, _mi´ter Dadadast_.”

            He bowed low to look the dwelfling in the eyes.

            “I’m sure you will, little one. I’m sure you will, and I thank you very much, and so does Hazel, be sure.”

            Knee chose this moment to storm out of the other room, chased by his siblings and the whole rabbit pack, making two quick circuits around the table before jumping on it to make his escape to the door. The adults followed the movement bewildered, but both Kim and Hazel joined the running party with nothing more than an exchange of glances.

            “I really believe it is time for us to head home, else we lose our guides!”

            “Yep, it was mentioned that our cousin never gets lost inside Erebor, but the same cannot be said of us!”

            “Here we go!”


	31. To the Dungeons

            The small group of travellers had camped under the canopy of a mighty tree in the outskirts of the forest, and left the horses to graze at will in the surroundings. Gwendolin was still amazed on how they were left all on themselves and never left their masters, but she remembered from the movies that the elves had a special treat with beasts. Not that she would ever mention it, of course.

            She wiped her bowl of stew with a piece of bread and went to a small creek nearby to wash it out, stopping on her way to retrieve Ferumbras, so he would be spared to walk more than needed. He claimed to be feeling better, but his legs weren’t steady yet, nor was there any guarantee that it ever would be.

            A movement in the corner of her vision was enough for her to grab a kitchen knife from the bowls she held and raise it to block the blow. Her reward was a fleeting sparkle in the dark eyes of her attacker, and the slightest upturning of one corner of her mouth.

            “Better so.”

            The human nodded and lowered the knife.

            “Thank you.”

            “How is your wrist?”

            Gwendolin looked down at her bandaged arm as if pondering, then shuddered.

            “Seen better days.”

            “Hmpf.” She walked with the easiness of a cat and spoke without even looking back. “I’ll be waiting beyond the stream. You have to learn how to fight in open.”

            “Yes, Milady.”

            The young woman finished her washing and got back to the camp, feeling miserable. The last fortnight had been a hell, with beatings morning, afternoon and night. Last week had been a little better, as they were travelling and the beatings happened only early morning and at night. She was sure she felt pain in muscles she didn’t even know existed. It took her days to reach the elf with her wood training weapon, and it had been just a touch, no even slowing Aredhel’s movement that finished with Gwendolin on the ground and a wooden sword pointed to her neck, as usual. She was becoming and expert in auto-bandaging, as everyday she bore a new bruise, scratch or cut – and this because they were using wooden weapons. She refused to think how it would be like if Aredhel decided to use the spear, that was her weapon of choice. With the sword and knives it was bad enough.

            “Lady Aredhel praised you. She sais you are learning fast.”

            Tauriel’s comment took Gwendolin off guard.

            “Pardon me?”

            “She said you are a quick learner. It is a compliment, mostly coming from someone like her.”

            The blonde just knelt down beside the packs and stocked the kitchen utensils with the others.

            “I feel useless! I know I promised to help with her recovery, but I didn’t dream it would be so hard. I’ve never been the sport-like girl, I’m thin, I don’t have the muscle I need to use the weapons the right way. And then I’m too slow, when she moves I feel like I’m in slow motion…” She noticed Tauriel’s curious look. “It is like I move more slowly than natural, because she is so fast.”

            “But you are improving. I’ve been observing you, as has Legolas, and he agrees. You are improving, don’t worry.”

            “Don’t worry?” She rolled up her sleeves, showing a bandaged wrist on the right and a large, angry purple bruise on the upper left. “There won’t be much of me left to be worried about if it goes on this way. And you didn’t see my back and my legs.”

            Tauriel frowned at the sight of her arms.

            “Are all these scars from your training? I didn’t think it was so… intense.”

            “What? Oh, no, those are old ones. I broke a fish tank some years ago… with my head.” She lifted her hair so the elf could see the large scar in her forehead. “It was a stupid accident, my foot slipped on the wet floor and I hit the tank, it was made of glass, and it broke and fell all over me.” Gwendolin rolled her sleeves down again. “I have some scars on my back and neck, too. That’s why I use to wear high collared and long sleeved clothes.” She took a deep breath and rose to her feet. “Well, time to earn some more bruises, I suppose.”

            She hadn’t taken half a dozen steps when Tauriel’s voice called her back.

            “Here.” Something was thrown at her and she grabbed it in the air per instinct. “Wear these, al least your forearms will be more protected.”

            The human looked at the vambraces the elf had lent her, and back to her, stunned.

            “I…Thank you.”

           

ooo000ooo

 

            Next morning they were greeted by the early rays of the rising sun in their faces for the first time since they left Thranduil’s Halls. There was a wide patch of grassy plains before them, but they could see the borders of yet another woodland they had to cross, like the ghost of a forest in the morning mist.

            Ferumbras stood up with the help of his cane and wobbled to some bushes to relieve himself and then to the stone outcrop where he had left Aredhel the night before, as she offered to watch. He had the strong feeling that she had not moved from the spot all night long.

            “Good morning!”

            His cheerful greeting was answered with the grumpy tone he was used to.

            “What do you mean by ‘good morning’? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?”

            “Uh.” The hobbit scratched his head, pondering. “Actually, both, I think. I wish you a good morning whether you want it or not, I presume.”

            The elf apparently ignored him, keeping her eyes eastward, where the sun was rising despite them being able to see it or not. Beyond the woods, in the distance, it glistened on the iced top of a mountain.

            “Is it there where we are heading to?”

            Aredhel heaved a sigh.

            “Yes.”

            Curiosity hit him, and as a full fledged Took, it would no be concealed.

            “Lady Aredhel…” She looked at him, as it had been a long time since he addressed her formally. “What then? I mean, I know you promised to protect my kin until we reached the dwarven kingdom, but, and then?” Her eyes glanced in his direction, dark and sad. “Will you go back to Rivendell?”

            “I don’t know, little fellow.” Her gaze turned again to the distant mountain top and whispered. “There is nothing for me to go back to. There is no going back to anywhere. I don’t know where I’ll head to.”

            “But… will you stay for Bilbo’s marriage, at least? I mean, you are one of us, of our travelling party for his marriage, you _must_ be there too!”

            She conceded a half hurt smile to the halfling that held her loyalty, even if she didn’t quite grasp why.

            “What merrymaking is there for me, Ferumbras? There, or anywhere? All that remains for me is pain, and it is mine and mine alone.” She graced his cheek with a light caress of her fingers. “Do you know how it is to lose your soul? To be empty and forlorn?”

            Ferumbras big brown eyes held hers in earnest.

            “Milady, I know it is hard to lose someone to death. I have lost dear ones, too, and not only to death. This is why I say to you, don’t keep the pain all to yourself. Share. It makes it easier to bear the burden.”

            Aredhel carded her hand through his dark brown hair, half a bitter smile on the corner of her mouth.

            “Thank you, Ferumbras.” She stopped for a moment, diving her gaze into his dark eyes, and then rambled on. “I have lived through the deaths of unnumbered beloved ones before; mother, father, siblings, friends, good comrades, brothers in arms, generals and kings. I have seen children die, I have seen unmerciful foes hack and slash whole families to shreds, I have seen destruction come from the whips of balrogs and from the fire of drakes. I’ve been dealing with death from before your dear Shire was named, and I have seen more darkness than all the nights you have lived. I deemed myself strong, but I am not. All those deaths haunt me, make me grieve every waking moment.” She detached her eyes from him, back to the top of the distant mountain. “Nellas was strong. She enjoyed life as a gift, every day as a treasure, a new chance to be happy albeit the past and the darkness of this world. She was my light, she was the joy I lost don’t know when. And now she is gone, I lost her too.”

            The deep voice of the elf had been getting lower and lower, and ended almost in a whisper, silent tears trailing her face like rain. The hobbit really wanted to help her cope, but didn’t know what to do with the dam he helped to break. He fumbled in his pocket with his free hand and rose to his feet, getting closer to the elf.

            “Here…” He wiped her face delicately with his handkerchief. “You know, we have a saying in the Shire, that not all tears are an evil; and that when we cry on a beloved one’s departure, we are watering the flowers of the one’s path to the Halls of Waiting, and seeing the flowers the one will know how much he or she has been loved, and will wait in peace.”

            He heard her hiccup, swallow painfully, wipe her nose and emit a strange gurgling sound, making the hobbit worry about her health; then he understood, when the sound became more understandable and light, clear like the sound of crystal beads falling on a silver floor. For the first time in the journey, Ferumbras heard Aredhel _laughing_.

            “It must…” She made an effort to hold her laughter and speak. “It must be a path of water-lilies, and arrowheads, lotus, cattails, thalias, and marsh marigolds!” The hobbit was stunned at her sudden change of mood, and took a step back, not knowing if it was safe to be near her; after all, insanity had various faces, didn’t it ? “Ferumbras Took, my little fellow, do you know what was Michael doing in the middle of the Shire?”

            The question was completely out of context, and the hobbit didn’t know what to make out of it. Was it a riddle? Was it a sign of her possible insanity?

            “Ah, uhm, I… I don’t know.”

            His jumpy attitude only made her laugh more, to his more than excusable startled state.

            “Delving!” Aredhel gazed at him with wide dark eyes. “Michael was… _Delving_!”

            Then it hit him.

            But stranger than to hear the largest town in the Shire being mentioned in a joke, a quibble, was to hear _that_ elf to make a joke, moreover in the emotional state she was since the death of her wife.

            “Michael Delving?”

            He questioned, unsure. She nodded with a deranged gaze in her eyes.

            “Michael Delving. Michael was… _delving_!”

            Ferumbras restrained his urge to roll his eyes and to facepalm in the presence of that experienced warrior at what was a so old pun that he didn’t even remember it. Anyway, the quality of it was not what mattered but then that… for once… Lady Aredhel was… _laughing_.

            “Aredhel… are you all right?”

            “A path of water-lilies…for all my tears must be making her path a real swamp for my sweet Velvet to wade through…” She wiped her cheek with a strange smile in her face, jumped down from the boulder and knelt in front of the hobbit, enveloping him in a tight embrace. “Thank you, little fellow, I thank you so much…”

            Ferumbras returned the embrace even if unsure of what was happening, amazed on her sudden change of mood. He felt her tears soak his shoulder, her whole body shaking with her sobs like in the dreadful night when Nellas died, and carded his hand through her hair in a comforting caress.

            After an untold amount of time, her outburst of tears finally subsided, and Ferumbras wiped her wet face with his palm, in a mixture of cleansing and caressing. To his growing surprise, she returned it with a soft kiss on his brow and a smile, a vision so rare in her face that the hobbit wondered if he would ever get used to it.

            “You are welcome.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            A week later they reached the front Gate of Erebor, to Gwendolin’s great wonderment. She remembered from the movie that it was an enormous mountain, and didn’t quite understand why short people like dwarves needed so a high door to enter their city, but then it became clear to her that it was not simply the gate to a palace, but the entrance to their realm, with every underlying meanings. The dwarves were a proud people, she reminded herself, and would do no less than to show all their craft and wealth to all who might behold it, at first glance.

            Legolas and Tauriel were well known in Erebor, and the guards quickly made their horses to be settled in the stables and their luggage to be sent to the chambers they usually were settled. It was a wide set of living and sleeping rooms, more than enough to accommodate both them and their companions. Having been told that the king was in the throne room, receiving a foreign delegation, they headed there to immediately, as protocol demanded foreign people to be presented so as to be allowed pass in the mountain. Aredhel would be no problem, and Ferumbras was being expected, and Gwendolin hoped that being out of the same world as the consort queen would be enough for her to be accepted. If she weren’t, she would not know what to do, as going back to the forest was out of question in her mind.

            The newcomers were received in the throne hall as protocol demanded, though Legolas was already more a friend than an ally or simple visitor to the kingdom, and was greeted with a slight smile by both king and queen under the mountain. At their sides stood Dwalin and sat Balin, as it was not reasonable to make the old advisor to stand; deference for old age was above any known protocol.

            Kíli noticed at once the likeness between the prince and the strange elf, and half overheard her being announced as the archer’s mother-sister while his wife scrutinized her eyes as was her duty. Ellen felt there was a sadness impossible to ignore, and even a hint of insanity, but no evil would ever take residence into that heart.

            Then the hobbit, Ferumbras Took was his name, one of Bilbo’s cousins, for sure. She was curious why he had come before Bilbo, but that story was sure to be told soon. When she locked his eyes in hers the most evident thing was curiosity, but the shadow of some loss was in him too. Nothing fresh as in Aredhel, but something in his past changed his relationship with the world, left a tinge of bitterness behind the smiling face.

           Then the woman, who looked unhappy and misplaced amongst the small company of elves and hobbit. Human used to be easy to read, Ellen thought as she locked her eyes to the blonde’s. Then a wave of nausea hit her with the force of a locomotive and she fell forward, blood dripping from her nose.

            “What is this? What have you done?”

            Kíli jumped from his throne and grabbed Ellen out of the floor, glaring daggers at the human who obviously attacked his wife. The same moment Gwendolin felt strong hands grabbing her arms, and she knew she would not be able to free herself even if she tried.

            “I’ve done nothing! I swear!”

            The woman was scared to death when she saw the elf tumble down after looking into her eyes; she had felt a tingle, like a draft of cold air on her temples, and it was gone when the queen fell. Now people were shouting at her and she was far from understanding anything besides that she was being accused.

            “Take her to the dungeons! If any evil comes on the queen, you’ll answer to it with your life!”

            “I’m innocent! I’ve done nothing!”

            “This is yet to be seen, witch!”

            The harsh voice behind her was full of anger, and the half-bald dwarf manhandled her down corridors and staircases with no hint of mercy. Gwen mingled sobs with desperate declarations of innocence, to o avail. When at last she was shoved into a cell and the iron door was slammed shut, she was still able to turn around and see the dwarf’s murderous face as he said.

            “If any harm has befallen my sister, I’ll deal with you myself!”


	32. Drowning

            Óin hurried against the tide of citizens that left the throne hall until he reached a side corridor that led him to an antechamber, a room the royals and staff used to finish preparing themselves before official meetings, and where they could take a rest or a snack when taking a break from long sessions. The tall guard who had summoned him had provided that nobody stood in the healer’s way, which was a help, even if the gray haired dwarf didn’t always trust humans and still thought it strange to have that trainee program between Erebor and Dale so both ward companies could work together more easily. His musings were cut from his mind when they reached the antechamber.

            “Thank you, Ulfir, you made my way quicker for sure.”

            The guard clashed his hand to his chest and bowed to the dwarf.

            “Anything on behalf of the Queen, my Lord Óin.”

            The dwarven guard that kept the door had already opened it and the healer stepped in, leaving both to warrant no unwelcome visitor would disturb the ones inside.

            “Óin!”

            Kíli acknowledged him, standing up but not for a moment letting Ellen’s hand go off his. Dís had a wet cloth in her hand, with which she had cleansed the blood from her daughter-in-law’s face and was currently wiping an imaginary sweat drop from her brow.

            “What happened to our girl, hmm?” Asked the old healer, opening his satchel with medical stuff and rummaging for something inside. “The little cousin of mine who insists that elves don’t get sick got sick, huh?”

            Balin grumbled to him.

            “This is no sickness, laddie, this is witchcraft!”

            Óin shook his head at being called _laddie_ , but Balin was hopeless in that matter.

            “She doesn’t wake up.” Kíli’s voice was distressed. “From the moment she looked at the witch she doesn’t wake up! I called her, we splashed her face with cold water, nothing seems to reach her, she doesn’t react!”

            Humming to himself, the healer got his newly acquired stethoscope and adjusted the earpieces as Iris showed him, then positioned the chestpiece on her ribcage.

            “She is breathing.”

            The surrounding dwarves exchanged glances but said nothing as he moved the chestpiece and positioned it again.

            “Her heart is beating.”

            “Durin’s beard, Óin, you never needed any paraphernalia to state the obvious!”

            Dwalins angry scowl was mirrored by many a nodding dwarf, only to be countered by a professorial Óin with a raised finger.

            “I must enlighten you that it is very important to have a precise diagnosis! Once having better means to obtain this diagnosis, these means should be used, not wasted!” He put the stethoscope back in his satchel and took a small flask with white crystals in it, whilst rambling on. “Of course I don’t expect you to know this, as you are a _warrior_ , not a _healer_.”

            Dís rolled her eyes at the small speech, not having the patience to deal with Óin when he was in his self-praise mode.

            “Can you just proceed your healing arts then, master healer? Or must we summon someone more focused on the patient than on his own paraphernalia?”

            Óin used his convenient selective deafness and opened the flask close to Ellen’s face, letting the ammoniac vapours reach her nose. The dwarves held their breath in expectation.

            She did not stir.

 

ooo000ooo

 

_The fog was dark around her, even if she was sure it was daytime. More a smog than a fog, she considered at the strong scent of smoke, but it was impossible to make out where from it came. Her feet were heavy, as if walking in a swamp. But no, her limbs were just weary, and she felt weak, as if she had been a long time without food and water, like the first time she dared into Mirkwood, with the Company, years ago. She looked up, searching for the source of the smog, but it was hard to see anything more than a couple of yards away. Then she saw it._

_It was a darker shadow amongst the shadows, a huge form towering in front of her. But it was not a tower. She was living too long inside one of these to mistake the form. It was a mountain._

_Something urged her to climb it, to reach its peak, because something had to be done there. But what? Or was it that something had been done there? The smog seemed to clear somewhat, and she could descry the mountain form. She knew it, even if she had never been there, the volcano. A name, a meaningful name, related to destruction and death. It was..._

_Vesuvius?_

ooo000ooo

 

            Leri greeted the visitors and the kids when they entered the royal dwellings, having a proper bath provided for the youngsters in his charge, and making sure the adults were at ease on where and how their things were and how they could take care of themselves and how to ask for his or anyone of the household’s staff help - it was not that Kíli refused to hire a chamberlain as strongly as Ellen refused to hire a handmaid that the house as a whole didn’t have its assistants. Kim and Fíli were telling the babysitter all events that occurred along the day, Lyn offered to help her cousins with anything they needed (actually, all she wanted was to be close to her cousin girls) and the older boys ran to their chambers to get cleansed and dressed up for the banquet.

            Knowing he still had plenty of time, Wolfram opened his closet and took out his once walking stick, now a wizard’s staff, and took a good look at it. Like the first time he dived to Middle-Earth, its top held a large green stone wattled in the dark wood. He didn’t see any markings, but it was rough enough for him to have a good grip yet smooth enough to be comfortable to handle. To put it simply, it was beautiful, and albeit the green stone nothing showed it was something more than an ordinary walking staff. Satisfied with his inspection, the man smiled at himself and hit the floor with the staff bottom end, to get the feel of it.

            The stone glowed green in answer, and faded at his bewilderment.

            He hit the staff on the ground again, a little more forceful. The green stone shone brighter, and the light endured a little more.

            “Looks like I found the on/off switch!”

            But, inspecting it, nothing different was to be found but the wood and the green stone atop of it, partially hidden by the bent twigs intertwined around it, nothing that resembled the simple walking stick he bought so many years ago.

            Wait.

            He did _not_ buy that trekking pole. It had been a gift.

            Cursing his memory and sure forty-nine years old was not that much to be so forgetful, he fixed his gaze into the green stone trying to remember who gave him that staff, and when. Lots of possible occasions flowed trough his mind, but no image enlightened him at all.

            The stone pulsed under his gaze, startling the wizard apprentice.

            “What?”

            A vision came to his mind, not related to his musings about how the staff had been obtained, but it was before his eyes nonetheless. Grabbing the staff tightly and adjusting his newly acquired hat, he ran out of his chambers and down the corridor to the front door of the royal dwelling, where he quickly asked some directions to a pair of startled wards and ran on, each step making him surer of the way he had to go. He didn’t know the paths like his nephew, but his target was calling him, and he would not miss it.

 

ooo000ooo

 

_A town used to exist on the volcano skirts, but it was destroyed, covered in ash. Her feet were struggling against ash, gray, pale gray ash. There were death people all around, scattered in the ashes, frozen in the moment of their deaths, fallen, broken, turned to stone. Two boys walked hand in hand, alive still, covered in ash, one of them hurt, the other one cradling his friends’ mangled hand in his, the thinner one resting his curly head on the shoulder of the other, almost carried by his friend. They found a large boulder and made to its top just before Vesuvius’ lava reached their path._

_She looked around, afraid to be in the path of the lava, but she was still shin deep in ashes. It was so fine it was almost like flour, just tasting bitter. She tried to walk, but it was getting harder, her feet heavier with tiredness. Was all that ash really coming only from that volcano? She looked around. A man walked by, covered in ash that looked like flour, looking up, a worried and stunned face to the remains of the source of the light dust. She followed his gaze._

_The dust came from two partially destructed buildings, two towers from where much was decided on the lives of many. They still burned in some places, and everyone that could do it made his best to get away from the ruins of the powerful buildings. But not all of them. Some courageous men were there, fighting the fire, the destruction, risking their lives for the lives of others, risking their lives for what they believed to be right. One of the fireman, whose name was Zeus, stumbled back from the building, resting his back against a pillar while two kids he just saved run away from the destruction. Several arrows stuck from the fireman’s chest, and then his king reached him, so sad and feeling guilty because he was late to be able to save his friend, his general. The king reached for his pocket and took out a chocolate bar, giving it to the fallen warrior._

ooo000ooo

 

            After the arrival and failure of their best healer to tend to their resident elf, Dís and Balin sought for information with the newcomers. It was a tense conversation, as the Mirkwood elves knew they could indirectly be blamed for what happened, but being sure of their innocence, all they wanted was to see their friend well. After all, it was Ellen who showed Legolas how stupid he was for not talking to Tauriel after her rise to captainship, supposing it was because of some seduction from his father. Now they had his blessing and were about to be wed in a couple of decades so the proper rites would be fulfilled, and they would not let their friend without any help they could possibly offer.

            “How was it, Prince Legolas, that you brought a witch to our midst? Didn’t you know the danger you were putting everybody here into?”

            “Actually, Lord Balin, we had no idea Gwendolin could possibly be a witch. She gave no hint during the time she was with us.”

            “A cunning one, then, able to disguise herself time enough to reach her goals.”

            “I don’t think she a witch at all, Lady Dís, if I may be so bold to say.” Ferumbras’ small voice dared to intervene. “We conversed a lot while I was healing, she is just a young woman confused and lost.”

            “This would be a perfect disguise.” Dìs turned back to the elven prince. “By the way, you mentioned she was found in the forest?”

           “Yes, near the old spider nest. We received a warning from Beorn the skin-changer that two elves and a poisoned halfling were making for our halls, and went to search for them. When we found them, Lady Nellas had been killed by a troll that chased the human.” Tauriel explained, as she had been the one to lead the party that rescued them.

            Aredhel grimaced at the mention of her deceased companion, but said nothing. It was Balin who put two and two together.

            “Isn’t it close to the path the owl takes to carry Ellen’s letters to his brother?”

            “Yes, where it leads to that boarding school her weird wizard friend conduces.” It was Legolas’ time to get wide eyed. “How could we be so blind? It is obvious someone coming from that Gate should be a witch of some kind!”

            “But Mister Dumbledore is an honourable man, on all accounts. He would not comply with someone willing to bring us harm.”

            “You are right, Lord Balin, but he himself warned us that there are dark forces at work in his world too, like the Acromantulas that came through that Gate and infested the forest from that spot to Dol Guldur.”

            “Goodness, Legolas, how can you possibly call Gwen a _dark force_?” Ferumbras was becoming angry. “All the poor woman wants is to go back home, to her clothes drawing job, and if possible to her appointment at the movies studio, whatever it means. She helped with my bandages even is she didn’t need to, and she’d done several more things she had never been required to, all on behalf of ones she had never seen before. It doesn’t seem coherent with a _dark force_ person!”

            “But it is coherent with someone trying to gain one’s trust so to accomplish her dark purposes!”

            “Yes, yes, Prince Legolas is right.” Pointed out Balin. “But then, _what_ purpose can it be? Why would someone come from Ellen’s world to harm her? She never told us anything about having enemies.”

            “Gwendolin is too young to have known your Queen before she came, for what I understood of the time mismatch. And they didn’t even dwell in the same kingdom.”

            “She could have been hired by someone else.”

            “But who could it be?” Dís paced the floor, stroking her beard. “The one she uses to call _the_ _Human Resources Director from Mordor_?”

            “No, he would be just pleased to have Ellen out of his sight, by any accounts, for all I know.” Balin deduced. “We must find out why this evil witch attacked my sister, and make her confess.”

            “Gwendolin Browne is not evil.” All eyes turned to the silver haired elf who had been silent until then. “You haven’t considered the odds of it having been an accident.”

            “Accident? No one knocks someone out aloof by sheer accident!”

            “She draws trouble to her. That’s why I made sure she would learn to protect herself. Knocking a queen out on first sight is completely coherent with her trouble attraction gift.”

            Legolas was slightly stunned at the change in demeanor from his aunt to the stranger, yet worried because it was happening right when someone he cared about had been attacked.

            “We don’t know her enough to be so sure she is not evil, Lady Aredhel.”

            “Yes, I do, Prince Legolas.”

            Ferumbras thought it funny to watch aunt and nephew exchange titles while disagreeing, and was glad to see the mighty spear-woman to stand up for the one Aredhel surely would have strangled if she had a chance the first time she saw her after Nellas’ death.

            “I’ve been dealing with evil since you father wore swaddles; Gwendolin can be clumsy, doubtless she attracts trouble, but there is no evil in her. I know. I warrant it.”

            “What makes you so sure?”

            Aredhel took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking.

            “Evil doesn’t care for life. She does. In the time I’ve been training her, I’ve seen. She may never be quite a fine warrior because she worries too much on if she will hurt her sparring partner; all I managed to teach her was self-defense; she prefers to take a blow than to hit a vital point if she has the choice. She even sprained her ankle once as to prevent stepping on a nest in the ground and harm the eggs. Evil doesn’t care if someone hurts. She does. She took pity on our halfling fellow since she saw him first, but not the scornful pity some reserve for the disabled and weak, but the sincere pity one feels for a fellow who needs the help one can provide. Evil is coward. She is resolute. She could have backed off of my imposed training, but she didn’t; and as I push her forward to harder and harder training, she never complains one word; even when she is battered and tired and sometimes even hurt because of how she throws herself into the fight, and I tell her to stop, to take a break, and she doesn’t. Evil is arrogant. She is proud. She knows her flaws, but it doesn’t keep her from trying, as hard as a... as a daughter of a high house of Man would. I have shattered her defenses, the defenses I myself taught her, so many times, and that many times plus one she asked to do it again, until she learned it right, and then I see it: the smile of victory of one who has conquered not her enemy, but herself.”

            An uncomfortable silence fell on the assembled group who was trying to find out what happened to Ellen and which part Gwendolin had in it. Balin was the first to shake himself out of the elf’s declaration.

            “Very well, but, if the witch is not a witch, how does it help to bring my sister back to consciousness?”

            “It doesn’t, Lord Balin. But it helps to get an innocent out of Erebor’s dungeons.”

            “Sorry, Lady Aredhel, but my son will not let the woman out of the dungeons until he knows what happened and that his wife is out of danger.” Dís faced the elf with a daring gaze. “Nor will I, by the way.”

            “If this is your judgement, so be it. But I will not comply with injustice. If Gwendolin is to be held in the dungeons of Erebor, so will I.”

            Legolas sent a distressed at his aunt.

            “What?”

            “I offer myself as prisoner for as long as Gwendolin is imprisoned. I am sure of her innocence and won’t allow her to stay there alone and scared if I can prevent it.” She turned calmly to the old advisor. “So, if my incarceration can be provided...”

            “This is completely unheard of! We cannot possibly allow an innocent to be caged! It would be an unfathomable shame!”

            Dís was indignant and so was Legolas, enough for him to skip titles this time.

            “You can’t do it, Aunt! I won’t suffer it!”

            “There is already an innocent in the dungeons and none here seems to think it a shame. So, if none is willing to take me there, I’ll have to find its way on my own.”       With a low bow as farewell, she quickly made for the door, so fast even the present elves took a second to move and try to follow the madly running silver-haired warrior who set her mind into getting jailed.

 

ooo000ooo

 

_The fireman king had a pendant dangling from the delicate but strong chain around his neck, a token that really didn’t fit with his war-battered appearance. It fitted better to the daughter of Agent Smith, and he was presiding a meeting at the UNO. The UNO’s council was held in the open, in a beautiful courtyard surrounded by waterfalls. When, by Varda’s stars, had Gimli grown all that beard? He had one just an inch longer than Kíli’s when she knew him, if she wasn’t mistaken. Zeus was attending the UNO’s meeting, too, not dead yet, and his daughter complained about the lack of fresh apples, but he was too busy explaining that one didn’t simply walk into..._

_A crashing sound of rock against rock claimed her attention, and Magneto shouted that someone should not pass, brandishing a staff over Rio-Niteroi bridge, which was cracking under the feet of a lion-headed butterfly that wielded a whip. At least it was not a sparkling vampire, she mused, but her attention was attracted by the water, and it was no more the sea, but a river, and it run in the middle of a town (a Middletown?), no, a city, a metropolis, albeit without Fritz Lang; a tower towered over one of its margins (duh!) and she could see the shadow of Beorn walking inside it, a long chain preventing him from scaring anyone to death._

_But what scared her was not the bear of a friend, nor the tower, but what it held atop of it. In the height, burning red and golden and focusing somewhere she was glad wasn’t her, she saw it._

_It was a cell phone tower transmitter._

 

ooo000ooo

           

            The door of the throne hall antechamber was swung open by the wards and Wolfram reached the lounge where his sister laid in half a dozen wide steps.

            “What are you doing here?”

            Kíli looked surprised at his brother-in-law, as no word had been sent to summon him.

            “I’m looking for my sister. What happened?”

            Kíli held his forearm and looked up with worried eyes.

            “A witch attacked her while being surveyed. Óin tried to wake her, but was unable. Now Wang Wu Chao is trying to help, he is a magician of the Soon Cheng people, but Radagast has been summoned too, he should be here soon.”

            The green wizard observed the shaman shake his many trinkets staff over his unconscious sister and mumble in a foreign language, with no apparent results. Several minutes later Wang stopped his chanting and turned to them.

            “The spirits could not retrieve any evil from your lady, o Kíli King. It is beyond my reach.” He looked at the tall man and sent a glance to his staff. “Is it you the wizard that was expected? It would be my pleasure to see you at work.”

            Wolfram shuffled uncomfortable.

            “Not really, or at least, not yet. You are waiting for my preceptor, I’m just, hmmm, a novice, so to say.”

            “Oh, so. You should talk to my son, Chao Li Baako. I’m beginning to train him too, in the arts of the spirits; you could exchange impressions on your learning. I look forward to meet your master, evidently; he must be a man of great wisdom and power if it is hoped that he can bring the Queen back from her state. A mighty imposing wizard, I am sure.”

            “Actually...”

            Wolfram’s answer was cut short by a bustle in the door, as said _imposing_ wizard made his entrance amidst incomprehensible shouts with the wards. The Sun Cheng shaman widened his eyes at the brown clad figure at the door, a questionable white material clothing part of his hair and right forehead, unfocused eyes searching wildly in the room until he spotted the elf in the lounge.

            “Oh!”

            He rushed past the onlookers with not even a glance at them, only grabbing his apprentice’s arm and dragging him behind. Once reaching the lounge, he gestured his hand slight inches from Ellen’s face, and turned to Wolfram.

            “What is your diagnosis?”

            “What?”

            “What do you say keeps her unconscious?”

            “Ah, hmmm, they said she was attacked by a witch, and...”

            A quick gesture with his own staff prevented Wolfram from being hit by Radagast’s staff the fourth time in the day.

            “I asked what do _you_ say!”

            “How am I supposed to know?”

            The brown wizard rolled his eyes.

            “How did you know you had to come to her?”

            The greenhorn gaped slightly, suddenly aware that he didn’t know how. His face must have been an open book for his preceptor, who used his staff delicately to close his apprentice’s mouth.

            “Do the same.”

            “But I didn’t...”

            The whack was fast, but Wolfram ducked from it in time.

            “Do. The. Same.”

            Taking in a deep breath and grabbing his staff a bit more tightly, he came closer to his sister face and studied it. He was not quite used yet to have her black haired and pointed eared, but it was his sister all the same. The problem was not there. If some witchery had hit her, it would not be his open eyes that would be able to see it. Looking at the stone set in his staff and recalling the self confidence he felt when handling it in his chambers, he gestured his hand over Ellen’s face and tried to _feel_ what was happening, in the absence of a better word.

            _It took him some minutes to feel his mind dive into a river, some more to keep himself from drowning, holding fast on his staff; and some minutes more yet to find what he was looking for. He feared to find his sister drowned, but she wasn’t, really, even if not swimming as he himself was, but strongly grabbing the trunk of a fallen tree, keeping her helmeted head above the water._

_He sat on the tree trunk and brought her out of the water, unsteadily balanced beside him, and unfastened her helm. He examined her skull with care, but no wound was to be seen, and she was unconscious nonetheless. The remaining of her body seemed unscathed, and he knew not what else to survey in his search for the cause of her unconsciousness. Frustrated, he stuck his closed fist into her sister’s helm, as if the poor protection had any blame to hold._

_But it had._

_Having felt an irregularity in the inner side of the helm, he fingered it and found a small notch. By the feel of it, it was not like someone had hit it, but rather that something had bumped in it from inside out._

_“Something trying to escape?”_

_Wolfram looked at his sister’s serene face and touched lightly her face before setting the helm back on her head, and then making sure she would be safe on the tree trunk, only her feet dangling in the water._

_“Now, I have to find someone to fix it.”_


	33. It was Not the Parahippocampal Cortex

            The first sign that something was wrong was the sound of long horns in the predetermined tune that set in motion each and every security staff member, which moved as one to drop the metal handrails to the sides of the staircases and bridges. An alarm like that was not heard off since the first years after the Retake, when bands of orcs still tried to revenge their fallen leaders, Azog and his son Bolg, and ventured too close to Erebor.

            Dwalin had his nerves tingling for action after stowing the witch in the dungeon, not quite satisfied with the far-too-civilized way things had been done. His sister was too soft, he thought to himself, and would box his ears if the witch had not a statutory fair trial. So, the sound of horns was all he needed to change from an angry and worried state to a war-prompt one, his beloved Ukhlat and Umraz ready for action in his hands.

            It didn’t take long for him to see what the trouble was all about. Jumping from ledge to bridge and from staircase to rampart, graceful as a dancer, there was the elf that just came along with Legolas and Tauriel, who, by the way, he could now see following her in a mad chase. Weren’t for the alert horns, it would almost be a beautiful sight, the silver haired elf using the spear shaft to propel herself further than her long limbs would be able, leaving Mirkwood prince behind with a stupid face. Durin’s beard, what were those tree-shaggers plotting to have his guards running like mad after them?

            Whatever it was, he would have his answer soon enough, considering the direction the elf was taking. Shouting some orders in khuzdul to the nearest guards, Dwalin took a better grip in the handles of his axes and prepared himself to greet the elf, who was a just couple of _jetés_ away and heading straight into his direction.

            “Take me to the dungeons, _dwarf_!”

            Her order was accompanied by the tip of her spear pointing inches from his throat, which wasn’t quite comfortable for the dwarf, even if it was blocked by his crossed axes.

            “You don’t dream I’ll free the human witch, _elf_!”

            She shook her head. “I’m well aware of how you regard her. Now, take me there, and command your soldiers to back off!”

            “Lady Aredhel, please reconsider!” Legolas plea went into deaf ears and she walked down the path with Dwalin’s axes still locking her spear, none of them daring a glance away from each other’s eyes. “Mister Dwalin, be careful, she is not in her perfect sanity!”

            “I know enough of elves to know they never are, lad!” He grunted something in khuzdul and accompanied the elf with a steady pace.

            Tauriel glanced at Legolas, and a quick nod assured her they would be following his crazy aunt, while the dwarf guards kept at bay, waiting for what was to come.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Wolfram blinked like an owl and steadied himself, a bit dizzy from his strange experience. Radagst grip was firm on his arm, and Kíli looked at him like he had grown an extra head. Wang was close by, respectfully waiting for his profession fellows to voice what they may, curious as to why the spirits who he dealt with were unable to wipe the evil out of the elf’s soul, and Óin feigned to be asleep.

            “What happened? Where was I?”

            The brown wizard tilted his head, evaluating how to answer his dumb apprentice.

            “To make it short, inside her head. What did you see?”

            The man collapsed on an armchair and heaved a sigh.

            “I was in a wide river with strange colourful waters, like rivulets of different coloured waters composing a large river. I found her there, she was unconscious but holding fast a tree trunk that had fallen from the riverbank, so she wasn’t drowning. I dragged her up the tree trunk so she would be more stable, and took her helm off to examine her head, but I saw no damage.”

            “This explains her breath becoming deeper and calmer some minutes ago, I presume?” An anxious Kíli asked his brother-in-law, and the shaman deduced the reason for his own failure.

            “And why the spirits were unable to retrieve any evil that was harming her. There is none.”

            Radagast hushed both of them with a weave of his hand.

            “Yes, it might be, now let him finish his telling.”

            “But there was a notch in the helm, from inside out. What was it?”

            “What does one have inside ones head?” Radagast asked, rhetorically. “Cross the data you have, use what you know! What was it?”

            “Feelings? Memories?”

            “This is not a guessing game, you must _know the answer_!”

            What data did he have to begin with? Wolfram wondered.

            “Why don’t she wake up if the damage is in the helm, not in her head?”

            “The helm is allegorical, like the river, the trunk and everything you saw. It is a trick your mind plays so you don’t go insane the moment you contact someone’s mind. The helm is a part of herself that was put on her, not born with her, but a part of herself nonetheless.” Radagast snorted, finally becoming angrily aware of his predicament. “Are you telling me Lady Yavanna really chose a champion with not even the _slightest_ knowledge of esotericism? No previous experience with astral traveling, astrology, herb lore?”

            Seeing his involuntary master getting mad, Wolfram made his best to appease him before getting hit by the Mordor-damned staff again.

            “Wait, wait, waaait now! I’m a PhD biologist, so I have my share of knowledge on botanic of every sort, not just healing plants, and a whole collection of _astronomic_ lore, more useful than superstitious _astrology_ in calculating time and to locate oneself and to navigate even in unknown lands - _and_ seas! I may never had an astral traveling experience, but how many do you know who have _physically_ travelled worlds apart? _And_ came back?”

            Radagast was about to say something when an angry Kíli stepped between.

            “I don’t care who has travelled where and how, can you two just stop bickering and bring my wife back?”

            Taking in a deep breath, Radagast adjusted his hat and got closer to the unconscious elf. Turning back to his apprentice so only him could hear his words, he mumbled still.

            “This talk is not over yet. And our time is short for everything you must learn.”

            “I don’t doubt it.” Wolfram stood up and came closer to his sister. “Now, what am I supposed to do?”

            The brown wizard interlaced his fingers with the green one’s hand and moved it over Ellen’s face once more.

            “Follow me, and learn.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            After crying herself dry, Gwendolin fidgeted looking at the walls, trying to figure out how long she had been alone in that cell, and how long she would yet be. Would she be forgotten there and die from hunger and thirst? Would they torture her, try to make her confess what she had no idea happened? They called her a witch, what if those people treated supposed witches like the church she knew treated them in the Dark Ages? She was sure she would confess anything they wanted at the first hint of torture, but then, no, she was unable to lie. And if they worked like the Inquisition, she would have no chance anyways, because if she lied and confessed her guilt, she would be executed, and if she held true, she would be tortured until she died. No good outcome, at all.

            “And I was angry I lost my appointment at the studio!”

            But Legolas _said_ those dwarves were good people, that they would help her! She was so confused by the accusation and so sure of her innocence that she didn’t even try to defend herself from the brute dwarf who cuffed her with his bare hands, even with all Aredhel had taught her. The dwarf was strong, but it would not be _that_ hard to escape him, if she really tried the way she learned. But no, it would show her as a guilty person who wanted to escape, and she was not, she was innocent!

            She looked at the torch hanging on the other side of the corridor, currently her only light. How long would it last? Her throat rasped from the much she cried, would they give her water?

            The nuns should be worried dead by now, she was almost a month away from home, and she was supposed to be back from England two days after departing from San Diego. Sister Whoopi was so proud of her inviting to work in the studio, she always shoved her to conquer her own life, her future. And Sister Gloria, who taught her to sew her first doll dresses? And Sister Amanda and her brother, they would be so proud to see her riding a horse bred by elves!

            Elves. No good luck with elves. First she caused one to die, even if unwittingly, earning her wife’s eternal hate. Then she sent another one, a queen no less, unconscious on the floor of the very throne hall. And she didn’t even know how. And bad luck of the bad lucks, that was the one supposed to help her to go back home!

            “Definitely, a buzzardshatmy luck!”

            It could not have passed more than three hours since she was dragged from the throne hall when she heard voices in the dark stone corridor. One of them was the deep voice of a dwarf, for sure, but then…

            “Lady Aredhel! Legolas!” She cried, jumping to her feet. “Tauriel! Did you come to free me?”

            Seeing how Aredhel and the dwarf seemed to be enjoying a strange dance with his axes and her spear almost touching their faces, her hope dropped to the floor.

            “What are you doing…?”

            The elves kept discussing in their own language while the dwarf cursed in his own, and it was clear none of them was satisfied with the trend of their conversation. After some struggle, the jail door was opened and Aredhel ran inside it, shutting the door behind her. A very upset Dwalin locked it with a clang.

            “Did you lock it right?” Aredhel asked, shaking the door with force. “No chance of escaping? Good! That’s what I want!”

            Dwalin turned his back to them and went away, not even waiting for the remaining elves to follow him.

            “Lady Aredhel, you’ll obtain us an incident between kingdoms! Do you have any idea how long it took us to build peace here?”

            Legolas was distressed, but his aunt laughed, bemused.

            “I don’t know, and I don’t care!”

            “Now, this is selfish!”

            “No, it is not! You forget, Lelly, that I am _not_ a Mirkwood elf, so my actions are free from any care with your father’s deals.”

            The human lifted a hand, begging for attention, holding back her laughter at hearing the prince being called _Lelly_ by his aunt.

            “Hmm, could anyone of you please be so kind as to explain what on Earth is going on?” The elves looked at Gwendolin as if noticing her there for the first time. “What did you do to make them cage you, Milady?”

            Aredhel’s laughter had an insane hint, and the woman got more scarred than when the elf was yelling at her.

            “I told them the truth.”

            “What truth?”

            “That you are innocent!”

           

ooo000ooo

 

            “Hmmm…” The first moan was enough to Kíli all but throw himself over Ellen, who slowly opened her eyes a slit. “What was the size…?”

            “Ellen! The size of what?”

            “The size of the oliphaunt that trampled over me! Ouch, my head…” She reached her hand to said head, but her husband’s rough hand grabbed it halfway and showered kisses on her fingers like if she were the last cookie in the jar. “Hey, you never treated me this way for a hangover…?” Ellen opened her eyes fully and observed the surroundings, noticing the worried and relieved faces around her. “What happened? It is not a hangover, is it?”

            “I thought I had lost you…”

            Kíli’s mumbled worry made her chuckle.

            “Come on, how are you supposed to lose a woman this size?”

            “How’re you feeling?”

            “I have a headache; what happened?” She gazed around. “By the amount of men of magic and science in the room, I must have given you quite a scare…?”

            Radagast moved closer, a kind tone in his voice.

            “The protection that was given to you by Lord Elrond suffered a little damage, but no damage was done to you. We restored it and it is shining like new!” (1)

            She frowned at the idea.

            “Well, I wonder what made such a mess with it, I had all but forgotten this shield; it’s been years since I got in touch with a possible past that was changed, and I never had such a reaction.”

            “I don’t believe it was about possible _pasts_ , little sister; dealing with memories would mess with your parahippocampalcortex, but your helm, or, the allegory of your protection, was damaged in a place that is coherent with the prefrontal cortex.”

            “Right; now, in a language people understand, please…?”

            “This section of the brain is associated with planning, with the associations both cross-temporal and cross-modal needed to create goal-directed cycles, which means, the prefrontal cortex has the ability to represent information that is not currently around you, and this knowledge obtained from a representation is used to guide thought, action and emotion in an intelligent way!” (2)

            Wolfram’s excited ramble was enough to make everyone wordless, but for his sister, who was used to it.

            “I thought I asked you to translate it… is it _possible_?”

            “Humpf. It means it is related to the _future_ , not the _past_. When you searched the presumed witch’s mind, certain knowledge of hers, that was not affected when she came to Middle-Earth because she came through the non-changing gate of Mirkwood, collided with your paradox shield and _short circuited_ it.”

            “Presumed witch? Which witch are you talking about?”

            “The one who sent you to the world of dreams!”

            “Dreams…” Ellen held her head again, massaging her temples. “It explains a lot… I never had so a strange dream in my whole life!”

            “So, it is all fixed now, I assume.” The pride in the wizard apprentice was obvious, but Kíli’s mind was running faster than his.

            “Ellen.” She looked back at him. “If it was not the witch’s fault, she is not a witch, and I sent her to the dungeons undeservingly!”

            “Sweet Mahal!” She facepalmed. “I cannot even be knocked out for a minute and the mess is done!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1 – The explanation about this mental shield is given in Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart - Chapter 8 - An Unexpected Party)  
> (2 - Fuster JM, Bodner M, Kroger JK (2000). "Cross-modal and cross-temporal association in neurons of frontal cortex". Nature 405 (6784): 347–51. doi:10.1038/35012613. PMID 10830963. )


	34. The Banquet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank you all wonderful readers, for your continued support and kudos! I'm not very acquainted to AO3 system, but I'd like to answer everyone of you personally, if you PM me I'd love it!  
> Extra-long chapter for you today!

           “Dear friends, noble citizens and visitors, it is an unspeakable joy to welcome all of you to this humble feast. Our special thanks go to the fabulous kitchen staff, and their incredible ability to relocate schedule to accommodate last hour changes. It would take hours to name all noble comrades and brothers in arms whose presence here make us rejoice, so I ask your forgiveness for mentioning only the ones who, unfortunately, we don’t have the chance to share a meal on a daily basis.

           ‘Our warm welcomes are to the Soon Cheng people, here represented by Soon Cheng Tsui Wei Xiu and his loyal fellows, who made all the way from the everlasting ice in the lands of the North to bring us their allegiance and friendship. Hail to Soon-Cheng, free-people of Middle-Earth!”

           The assembly cherished the Sun Cheng delegation, clashing flagons of ale and wine as the king and said delegation took sips from their golden goblets. As the audience took note that Kíli didn’t end his speech, they hushed themselves down until he could be heard once more.

           “Weren’t the joy enough, out long time friends of Mirkwood, Prince Legolas and his fiancé Lady Tauriel, are gracing our halls with their presence. _Mae govanen, melloni_ , you and your kin Lady Aredhel and her protégé, Lady Gwendolin from the human kingdom of Diego.”

           They all lifted their cups again, and Kíli complemented so just the ones in the main table would hear.

           “I really apologize for the unfortunate tour to our dungeons, miladies, but I expect you to understand that, under the circumstances…”

           Dís was amused on how her son was able to use his puppy eyes trick even at one-hundred-five years old, but he did.

           “It really was amazing to see the efficiency of your guard, o Kíli King, and their self-control in not shooting without orders. At least half a dozen archers could have stopped me in my tracks in my way to the dungeons, and I noticed the silent ones who escorted me with their throwing weapons at the ready. One word from you or from your mighty general here and I’d be in Mandos now.”

           Said general Dwalin shuffled uncomfortably in his place.

           “Anyway, I completely understand your reaction. I know all too well one can lose his head when facing a threat to a beloved one.”

           Her gentle pat on Gwendolin’s hand was the most embarrassing for the young woman, as one not knowing what happened before could mistake it for something completely different from the truth. And all that ‘ _protégé_ ’ talk made her more wary yet and thinking that she felt more at easy when Aredhel’s rage was more evident than her affection.

           Kíli smiled brightly at them and lifted his goblet once more, requiring the attention of the assembled party of friends, councillors, warriors and citizens.

           “Also we have been granted the great joy and honour to have in our midst some of the nobler people I ever met; the ones who made the quest of the people of Durin to defeat Smaug their own quest; and who defended our home, Erebor, as if it were their own. Most of you here present weren’t able yet to get acquainted to them, the ones I am proud to call Companions in the Retake of Erebor and also kin, by their family ties to Ellen Dwarvenheart, our beloved queen. Welcome, people of Durin, to Wolfram the Green, Iris the Goblin King’s Bane, and Lily the Dragon Blinder, of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield!”

           The cheers were long and loud, accompanied by many clashes of ale flagons and shouts both in Westron and Khuzdul. A silent toast between the king and his consort was the sign for everybody to sit down and for the food to be served. Out of side doors where they had been waiting and hearing the praise to their abilities from the mouth of the king himself, the kitchen staff began to bring and settle on the long tables what looked like an unending stream of food. It was done in such a way that all tables were served at the same time, from the high table where the royalty and special guests sat to the ones closest to the entrance of the banquet hall.

           Except for said royalty and visitors namely mentioned in Kíl’is welcome speech, the remaining guests mingled themselves at will, even if some of the members of the Council of Lords and their families didn’t take it well to sit along miners and merchants and sometimes not even with lesser warriors. Not that it was not allowed or expected that the guests of the high table would take a seat at another table to share a cup of brew or a song or a hilarious story or two. A banquet in Erebor’s halls was meant to be joy, and no joy would be complete is each and every partaker of said banquet could not interact with the remaining ones. Because so it was that feasts used to be held under Kíli’s hand: besides members and families of the High Council (which means, the members of the Company) and of the Council of Lords, there was always something like a hundred families invited whose head was a member of any rank of the army or a common citizen. Just the same way Kíli would share a meal at the main dinning hall with the miners, a tailor could be invited for a banquet the same as his neighbour the blacksmith. To the Lords’ shock and discomfort, of course, what amused more than one member of the Company. When questioned about his reasons for so an _unkingly_ behaviour, Kíli’s answer was simple.

           “If Thorin Oakenshield could starve with his people in the years of Wandering, why can’t his people feast with his heir in the years of plenty?”

           And there was plenty, indeed, of every food and favourite dish a dwarf could wish for. The waiters carted in large plates of roasted potatoes and celeriac puree, and rice seasoned with garlic and bacon, and onion rings fried crispy, pickles of assorted kinds, pies of different combinations of meats and vegetables, tomatoes filled with spicy fish, bittersweet ginger slices, pumpkins roasted whole filled with cream cheese and chicken meat, a variety of breads of different grains. And then there was meat, in quantity and variety to satisfy any taste, from fish and pheasant and turkey to pork and lamb and cattle, fried, cooked and roasted. At the sides of each long table a large mobile oven was brought, in which insides a whole ox had been set to roast twelve hours previously, rolling very slowly over a bed of coals until every bit of meat was tender and spiced by the very smoke the coals produced, along with herbs that were sparkled on said coals. The same technique, when applied to whole boars, produced crisps of pork skin that crackled under one’s teeth, something the children especially enjoyed.

           And yes, there were children, as a result of the purposeful effort to favour marriages and childbearing amongst Erebor citizens. The more or less one hundred-fifty families attending the banquet brought along almost twenty children ages twenty-five or less years old, born in the Mountain. Obviously there were  some older ones, born in exile, but they counted not even half a dozen. Anyway, in a society where children were valued as a precious treasure, there was no questioning if the children would or would not attend a banquet. They were part of the invited family, which would obviously watch over them with love and pride.

           They all ate with gusto for over one hour, on which a variety of beverages was served along, from fresh water and fruit juice (aimed mainly at the children and an eventual pregnant dwarrowdam) to ale and wine and some stronger drinks.

           Dwalin was uncomfortably seated beside Aredhel, who made her personal quest to keep Gwendolin safe from him, as if he could intend the human any harm after being forbidden to do so by Ellen herself. One of the bartenders came along with his cart, serving the high table, and the warlord used his chance to try to disconnect himself from the situation.

           “Here, lad, a shot of that one.”

           He pointed to a certain flask in an ice buckle, and the bartender poured him a dose in a finely engraved goblet. Seeing the crystal bluish spirit being served to the warrior with whom she had shared a pax-de-deux just hours previously, her mouth spoke before her brain.

           “One for me, too.”

           Dwalin reacted as he used to with the only elf he had any close contact, his adopted sister Ellen.

           “You don’t know what you are asking for.”

           Aredhel answered his scowl with a wicked smile.

           “Yes, I don’t. And that is the fun of it.”

           “You don’t look like someone who uses to seek for fun.”

           “You are right. But Nellas was. Maybe she was right.”

           The bartender was already serving the next small group of dwarves when Dwalin noticed how the silver haired elf held her goblet.

           “You have never had a shot of real dwarven Iced Fire, have you?”

           She held his gaze.

           “No. I never had a taste of dwarven whatever. But Nellas used to say, ‘ _why not_?’, and I’m willing to follow her advice. So…?”

           “Shot.”

           “Who?”

           “When I say _three_ , we shot this down. Ready?”

           “Ready.”

           “Three!”

           Both warriors gulped their drinks down, with the difference that the dwarf knew what to expect from it. The elf, on the other hand, felt the icy liquid burn down her throat leaving an exquisite taste in its wake, like the fresh morning wind after a night of storm. A hint of cherry and juniper left and aftertaste that made Aredhel smile madly.

           “Varda in the skies with diamonds, it tastes like the kiss of a virgin!”

           Gwendolin chocked on her wine and Dwalin laughed out loud. The bartender passed again and Aredhel called for another shot.

           “Easy, elf, Iced Fire is not something to be taken carelessly.”

           She had another shot.

           “Nor is the kiss of a virgin!”

           Gwendolin felt completely embarrassed and left her seat with the excuse of looking for Ferumbras, who was currently in a merry conversation with Iris, who couldn’t have too much information about her husband-to-be and couldn’t be more worried after hearing about the goblins in the pass. The company of the halflings had a calming effect on the human, as their easy talk on ordinary matters and Iris upcoming wedding were more real-like than Tauriel’s talking about giant spiders, Legolas’ on commercial treaties and Aredhel’s constant lessons on self defense and uses of every kind of weapon, not to mention Doc Halsir’s babling on a certain Lady Culdawen of whom she never got a sight of. Iris was also genuinely interested on how it happened for Gwendolin to be in Middle-Earth, and they exchanged their impressions on how they absorbed the knowledge that they were not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

           “You are lucky, Gwen, you don’t have to defeat a dragon in order to go home.”

           “Indeed, as I think any attempt of mine to fight a dragon would only make it die out of laughter.”

           “I wouldn’t be so sure of that; I’ve heard Legolas and Tauriel talk about you while you train with Aredhel, and they seem to be quite impressed.”

           “I don’t know why they should, Ferum. I always end my training session with a new bruise and seldom have the luck to touch Aredhel for true. Sometimes I think that when I hit her it is by pure chance or that she is letting me do it out of pity.”

           “Nope, it is not her style. She took it too seriously to teach you how to survive to let you hit her if you weren’t able.”

           Iris was impressed.

           “Wow, Gwendolin, it must be great to be trained by an experienced warrior like Lady Aredhel. How did you accomplish it, to make her agree into training you?”

           “Actually, it was not so pretty as it may seem…”

           And on the feast went, getting more lively as the evening wore on, and even more with the arrival of the musicians when desert was being served. Bofur had called three bands that would take turns all night long, or at least until the last standing dwarf; anyway, considering the nature of said dwarves, there was a real chance that the morning would find half a dozen of them still toasting to each other’s beard. What was quite right, considering that they were feasting old allies, new allies and living legends.

           The reluctant living legend called Wolfram was spending a fabulous time with the youngest Sun Cheng, not talking about any kind of wizardry at all but about their language and name construction.

           “Fascinating! I knew about a few peoples who use to change their personal names along life, but only one who also referred themselves in relation to their offspring rather than to their parentage.”

           “I don’t know how other peoples refer to themselves, as this is my first journey far from home. I think it interesting that you say ‘ _Wolfram son of Nyda_ ’ instead of ‘ _Wolfram father of Lily_ ’. How are the future generations to know who you are if they have not known Nyda? It is easier for the ones who come after to remember you as the father of someone who is closer to them in their history.”

           “I see. That’s why you are ‘ _Chao who is Child_ ’, and your name will change to ‘ _Chao who is father to someone_ ’ once you have grown up, married and fathered a child yourself.”

           “Yes, but I probably will be just ‘ _Chao who is Shaman_ ’, as I intend not to marry.”

           “But why? Considering your father is also the Shaman, I presume it is allowed for the Shaman to marry.”

           “You are right. But chastity brings along some powers that can be very useful.”

           Wolfram was still intrigued.

           “But you can change your mind in the future, can’t you? I mean, you are young, what if you fall in love with a pretty woman when you are older?”

           Chao side smiled, wryly.

           “It is not as if I have the choice. My father consecrated me when I was born. There is no other path for me.”

           “Ouch, I’m sorry. I mean, not that to be a powerful shaman is not a very noble part in life, but to have no choice sounds me so… deterministic, so to say.”

           “Don’t be sorry, master Wizard. My father had his reasons for doing it, be sure. Things would be… worse for me if it was otherwise, and I’m happy with the life I have been given.”

           The tall man shook his head at how the lad submitted himself to a given destiny and tried to change the subject.

           “Please, forget this _master wizard_ thing, just call me Wolfram, of Wolf, to be short. That’s what my friends call me.”

           The boy stood up from his seat and bowed low

           “Thank you, sir, for offering me your friendship. I’ll be proud to be called Chao Fa Tsui by you and your people.”

           The wizard didn’t understand a thing.

           “What?”

           “You offered me your friendship; you are called a wolf; by your offer of friendship I can be called Chao, Friend of Wolf.”

           Wringing his brains to the name construction of the foreign people, he came to a question.

           “But wouldn’t this lead to confusion with your leader? His name is Tsui, for all I understood.”

           “Yes, but I cannot be Fa Tsui to him, because I’m already Chao Te Tsui, Chao that is brother-in-law to Tsui. That is how I’m called in his family, because my sister is married to him.”

           “But I thought your current name was Chao Li Baako. Is that right?”

           “For everybody else in our people, yes, I’m Chao who is Child. But in Tsui Wei Xiu family, Tsui who is Brother to the Chief, I’m Chao Te Tsui; and in my family I’m Chao Wei Mei, Chao Brother of Mei, my sister.”

           “It really sounds complicated, to change your name according to whom you are talking to.”

           “Not really, if you think that you have a different relationship with different people.”

           “You know a lot for someone so young, I must say.”

           Wolfram was impressed, but the lad just shrugged it off.

           “I’ve been trained since I was born; in the land we live, you don’t have time to _don’t_ _know_ something that will be part of your life, like wearing goggles in the snow so you don’t get blind. And the same I’ve been trained since a baby, I’m training Liao Wang so he will be the best shaman dog possible.”

           “A shaman dog? Do you mean, the dog has a shamanic training?”

           The boy let an amused laughter at the man’s surprise.

           “No, of course not! But a shaman dog is trained to protect the shaman at any cost, and to understand what the shaman is about; because we can become very vulnerable when in trance, or dealing with the spirits, or dealing with the polar lights. You don’t want to have your body moved when your spirit is wandering, else it can get lost, you know.”

           “I’m sure of it.” Stated Wolfram, more lost on the route the conversation was taking than a blind man in a shootout. “By the way, where is that magnificent dog of yours? I couldn’t help noticing his beautiful eyes, I must say.”

           Chao stiffened in his seat, jealous .

           “Liao Wang is a young dog still in training, but he is very sensible and makes me proud of him.”

           Thinking it strange that his compliment was taken almost as an insult, Wolfram realised the difference in cultures was something that would not be solved in an one night chat.

           “I have no doubt of it, Chao Fa Tsui.”

           The use of his new title made the lad to breath easier, and he looked around to check on said dog, whom he expected to be at his side.

           “Shi bakun! Liao Wang! Liao Wang!”

           Chao’s panicked cry startled all around him, and noticing the large dog was not at the boy’s side made the dwarves nervous. Even the musicians took a break between one beat of the song and another, looking for the large hound with silvery fur and white fangs.

           The silence was broken by a delighted giggle.

           “Look, Dada! _Kee_ has _doggie_!”

           In fact, the younger of Durin’s heirs had straddled the enormous dog as if it was a pony fit for her size, and made it walk this and that way at her will just with a pull of the long fur around its neck.

           Said ‘ _Dada_ ’ Kíli ran to his daughter stretching his hand to a bow that wasn’t  there on his back, cursed the protocol that forbid him to wear his weapon of choice during a banquet, and then made for the handle of a fancy sword that was at his waist, far too decorated and too light in his hands for him to be comfortable with it. A dozen wards were at his side in no moment at all, ready to protect Kim at the cost of their own lives if needed. All Kíli saw before his eyes was his precious youngest grabbing the fur of a wild beast that could tear her head off with a single bite.

           But Chao was there before Kíli could even unsheathe his sword completely, knees on the floor and arms widespread in front of the beast that stopped in its tracks, pleading for the dog’s life.

           “NO!”

           Kíli’s sword stopped an inch form Chao’s nose, and the hound growled angrily, not for a moment letting the tiny girl fall from his back.

           “Liao Wang is tame! He is my protector, he won’t harm anyone who doesn’t intend to harm _me_ , nor anyone he _claimed_ under his care!”

           The king looked shakily from dog to daughter to visitor with golden eyes; albeit his fear for his little girl was overwhelming, after a moment of observation he had to acknowledge that there was no obvious threat, and that the animal behaved better than many a person he had dealt before. He more felt than saw his wife coming to his side and kneeling down, a calming hand on his own, a steady breath where he had only gasps.

           “Kim, why are you on this dog’s back? It can be dangerous, you know.”

           The little girl stopped rubbing the dog’s ear and turned to her mother.

           “No, Mama, _doggie_ is a good good _doggie_ , he won’t drop me!”

           Ellen tilted her head and the dog mimicked her, his astounding violet eyes looking curiously at hers. She stretched a hand to his muzzle and let it smell it. Dealing with animals was something her elven nature upgraded when she fell into Middle-Earth, even if it had been some years since she had a cat in her apartment, to her neighbours’ relief.

           She had never tried to use her _sense motive_ with an animal, but it was pressing. All the negotiations with the Sun-Cheng could be wasted if their dogs, which were a very important part of their culture and economy, were despised or threatened in their very first visit to Erebor. Despite her bad trip with the human woman that afternoon, she locked her eyes with the hound. Seeing the dog drop its ears down and whimper in the queen’s hand, Chao panicked.

           “What are you doing to my Liao Wang? Please, don’t harm him!”

           The lad’s plea reached Ellen’s ears as if through a long tunnel, and came back as a smile in her face.

           “No one in Erebor will ever harm your protector, little Chao. He is bound to high purposes, and you should be proud of him.” Her voice turned into a whisper only heard by the boy. “And he will always keep you and your secret safe, rest assured.”

           Chao looked sidewise to the elf, one hand reassuringly grabbing the dog’s fur.

           “ _Kee_ SAID _doggie_ is a good good _doggie_!”

           Smiling at his always optimistic daughter, Kíli stood up and sheathed his protocol sword, lending a hand to Ellen to stand up with him.

           “Fear clouds one’s eyes. With clouded eyes, even the tiniest flower can be seen as a dangerous threat. Mahal taught us more than once today that none should judge with clouded eyes, with fearful eyes. What once was feared can be learnt to be trustworthy, a friend; the most important thing is to see beyond prejudice, that is the darkest cloud to overcast our eyes and minds.” As Kíli spoke, he walked slowly back to his seat at the high table, all eyes on him, and then lifted his wine goblet once more, addressing the musicians. “Let us cheer the treasures we are given!”

           At this, with everyone’s nerves calmed down, the drummer hit a single beat, then two, then three. The violin joined in, and soon a flute found its place in the music. Several couples stood up to dance, and Gwendolin looked surprised as Aredhel passed by hand in hand with Dwalin.

           “Do you know dwarven dance?”

           She could not avoid to ask. The silver haired elf smiled drunkenly with a wink.

           “I don’t; but as in most things in life, all you need is someone more experienced to show you how to do things.”

           The woman didn’t feel quite comfortable with the elf’s statement, feeling more embarrassed each interaction with said elf. But she swore to help her out of her grief, and she would not step back, not until she was sure Aredhel was sound and safe in the path of healing her broken soul.

           “Awn, this song is sooo beautiful!” Iris mewled beside her. “I wish I had Bilbo here to dance with me! I will _kill him_ when he reaches Erebor!”

           Ferumbras motioned his hand in the direction of his cane, apologising.

           “I would love to do his part in the dance, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do so in quite a while.”

           The voice of the minstrel sounded almost like a muslin priest on the top of a tower calling the faithful to their knees, or the voice of a gipsy singing about fate, very different from the steady voice Thorin Oakenshield used to declaim it rather than to sing.

“ _Remember a dwarf woman is a Jewel Mahal gave us the honour to admire and to take care of. Do it wisely, even in the things you may think are lesser._ ”

           “May you give me the honour, dear cousin?”

           The hobbit lass lifted her eyes to a blushing Frérin, and graced him with an enormous smile.

           “It will be my pleasure, dear cousin!”

           The young dwelf blushed even more, but took seriously his task of teaching her the steps, as she had only seen them once. Albeit their difference in age, the difference in races made the youngling taller than her by some inches, and he never danced with someone fit his size that also had womanly curves, and he felt clumsy and awkward. It was not like dancing with his sisters, or even with Firc, Bofur’s daughter.

           “That one is a daring one, huh?”

           Ellen smiled at Kíli while they danced, his hands in her waist helping her to twirl around herself and round him at the same time. He smiled, matter-of-factly.

           “Of course, he is a second son.”

“ _A Jewel is born in the dark; you must do your best to bring her to where she will shine more, the light._ ”

           Her smile dropped a little at a memory.

           “You know, I can never dance this song without remembering your uncle. The first time I saw the Jewel Dance he was dancing it with Lily, at Imladris. It was when I noticed they had something going on, you know.” (1)

           “It looks like aunty Lily still likes to dance with a Thorin when given the chance!”

           The elf looked at where he had hinted with a side glance, and indeed her niece was enjoying the dance with their firstborn.

           “Only this Thorin barely reaches her shoulder height and has less beard than her…”

           “What’s the problem with one not reaching the shoulder height of a woman?”

           Kíli sent her his cheekiest smile and gazed directly at her breasts in front of him.

           “Kíli Elvenblood, you are impossible! What example are you giving to our kids?”

           “That they have to treat their Jewels as the treasures they are!”

“ _A Jewel is not meant to be kept hidden, all to yourself. A Jewell is to be shown proudly, for she is a blessing Mahal gave you._ ”

           The oldest of said kids was trying to control his pumping heart that made his blood drum in his ears like a thunder, unable to keep his eyes from his cousin. Lily, on the other hand, had a serene smile gracing her lips, gazing softly Knee’s yet beardless face, the eyebrows that weren’t yet as heavy as they would be, shadowing those amazing sapphire blue eyes that shone at her like stars. His hands on her hips felt like fire, and he swallowed hard fearing that she would notice how sweaty they were.

           “You know this was the first dance I ever had with your granduncle?”

           “No, I didn’t.” Lily’s smile stunned Knee a little, but he managed to maintain the conversation she started. “And now it is the first dance I have with you!”

“ _A Jewel may be rough sometimes, and you must have the will to find her smoother side._ ”

           He rounded her while she kept the rhythm with her heels, almost scragging his neck, unable to keep his eyes from her face. When it was impossible not to turn his head, his raven black hair flew graciously, braids shining with carefully carved beads.

           “It seems I’m bound to dance with Thorins!”

           Lily laughed, and Knee couldn’t help but to join her in the crystal sound of her joy. Mahal, he would give anything to have that laughter by him all his life long! She held his hand as they danced side by side, and he noticed she was blinking against an unwanted tear.

“ _A Jewel shines on herself, you only have the privilege to be lightened by her shine. Be grateful for this if you want to keep her at your side._ ”

           “Please, don’t be sad! I didn’t want to upset you!”

           She shook her head, dismissing his worry.

           “I’m not sad, Thorin, I just… didn’t dream that I would ever dance this dance again… I’m happy here in Middle-Earth, and I didn’t believe I would ever feel happy again…”

“ _A Jewel must never be broken by you, for her shards will pierce your heart, and you will be like dead without her, but with her forever inside your heart._ ”

           As the music came close to its end they faced each other, his hands respectfully on her waist and hers on his shoulders, even if all he wished for was to hold her tight and bury his face in her bosom as his father used to do to his mother when he thought nobody was seeing. Being well aware that Ellen would punch Kíli repeatedly in some place that hurts a lot if he ever dared to do it in front of people, Knee held his urge and just locked his eyes with hers.

           “You are the most beautiful Jewel in whole Erebor. Ever.”

           Her smile was priceless.

           “And you are the most flattering dwelfling in whole Erebor! I wish I could take you home and cuddle you like a kitten!”

           Knee was not exactly thinking about being cuddled like a _kitten_ , but that would be better than nothing.

           “Meow?”

           Lily roared with laughter as they headed back to the table.

           In the meanwhile Ferumbras encouraged Gwendolin to try the dance floor.

           “Just stand up, I’m sure there will be a lot of suitors to dance with you once they see you here!”

           “Ouch, I really couldn’t! I don’t know the dance, Legolas is dancing with Tauriel and after today’s incident no dwarf will want to get close to me, albeit everything the king said.

           “This means no one will compete with me to dance with you? This sounds wonderful!” Gwendolin turned around to the stranger’s voice, only to see one of the wards that had been in the dais when they reached the throne room that afternoon bowing at her. The lack of helm allowed her to see his dark brown hair partly tied back, and a better sight of his grey eyes. “Ulfir, son of Ulfar, at your service!”

           She could not keep her smile and curiosity.

           “Ain’t you a bit too tall for a dwarf?”

           He laughed heartedly.

           “So I hope, milady, as I am no dwarf at all!”

           “Ok, I dance with you if you teach me how, but then you have to tell me how it is that a human like me is a ward in a dwarven kingdom!”

           The man guided her to a spot where it was not overly crowded and held her hand for the next dance.

           “It is no secret. Erebor and Dale work together in many issues, as one doesn’t grow food inside a mountain and in my town we don’t have neither the ore nor the large forges the dwarves have; also they have skills we have not, like making certain machines, and we have others they don’t have, like our cloth fabric making. So it is that it is good for both men and dwarves to have our towns close enough to deal easily anytime we want.”

           “Hmm, this is interesting.” Said Gwendolin, trying not to step on the ward’s feet too much. “But it still doesn’t explain why you work with the dwarves, I think.”

           He chuckled, and she was pleased by his easy smile at her, after so many compelling situations she had been through in the last weeks.

           “Besides the merchandise stuff, we work together in army issues. We must protect our peoples from orcs raids, mostly, or any other threat that may appear. For this to work well, it is a good thing that people from one army knows the other, so we work better when together. Some dwarves go train with Dale’s guard, and some men come to train in Erebor. I’m one of these.”

           “So, it is a like a student exchange? Hilarious!”

           Ulfir chuckled once more.

           “I don’t know what students exchange, but we learn a lot with each other. So it gets easy to work together when needed, even with people you didn’t work along before.” He made her swirl and steadied her again. “Now, you know everything about me; your turn to tell me about you.”

           “No, this is not everything about you, I’m sure.” Gwendolin wasn’t really at easy with telling a stranger about her when she wasn’t even sure if she wasn’t a lunatic having a very long hallucination.

           “It may not be, but it is more than I know about you, besides that you are _not_ a witch.”

           She frowned.

           “Ouch, please, don’t remind me about this!” The music changed to a more vivid one and the blonde stumbled on her own feet, only Ulfir’s strong grasp keeping a very embarrassed Gwendolin from falling. “Sorry, I… I think I’m not fit for this kind of music.”

           “Of course you’re not, you’re not a dwarrowdam!” His laughter made her feel better, and he guided her back to a table. “Come, you owe me your story now.”

           “There is not much to tell, I guess.” She tried to dismiss his curiosity. “I’m just a seamstress, no one very interesting at all.”

           A pair of mugs of ale in his hand, and Ulfir sat down beside her, curiosity in his eyes.

           “This is yet to be seen.”

           Iris grabbed her mug of ale and sat down beside her father, amused by the stiffness of Frérin’s dance but glad that he was so willing to teach her as much as he knew. He took his cup of strawberry juice and tried to recover his breath.

           “Did she give you very much trouble, boy?”

           “Not really, Uncle. It’s me who must pay more attention to this kind of lesson when Grandma makes us learn how to behave in court.”

           “I see!”

           Said Grandma soon came around gathering Durin’s heirs and other males for a dance as traditional as the Jewel Dance, performed only by the men. It told the story of Durin himself, from his beginning to the end of times, and it would be completely inappropriate if the lads didn’t dance along, even young Fíli.

           “Strange, I see Dibur and Difur among the dancers but I have not seen Bombur all night long.”

           “Now that you have mentioned it, Dad, nor have I seen Óin. They both use to be the first to break the ale kegs and Bombur is always the last to leave the table. What can they be up to?”

           Radagast uplifted one eyebrow from across the table to his reluctant apprentice.

           “You should know it by now, shouldn’t you, Wolfram the Green?”

           He side eyed the brown wizard with a sigh.

           “Ouch, come on, even in the middle of a banquet will you pester me?”

           The weird man changed his look to a sorrowful one.

           “I’m so sorry, I forgot we had planned to begin your training by the morrow. Of course a life is not that important that you cannot wait for tomorrow to worry about it.”

           “What?” A startled Wolfram automatic reached for the staff beside his chair. “What are you talking about? A life? Which life, for Yavanna’s sake?”

           Radagast stood up and walked slowly towards one of the main doors, shaking his head.

           “I’ll see what I can do myself, but this is not my speciality, no it isn’t. And it is not for me to call the one who can help, no, not me this time. But at lest I may comfort the ones who will stay behind, I’ll try to.”

           Wolfram grabbed his teacher’s arm and spun him around to face him.

           “At least, tell me what I should do! What should I know?”

           Now the ragged wizard had a really sad look on his face.

           “It is not for me to know. It was _you_ who felt the call, because it is only _you_ who can find the answer for this call. All I can do is to look for the source of the call, find out what is happening, and with luck be in time to find the one who can help. All I can feel is that you are the only one who will set the things in motion in order to fix this… issue, this threat to a life. Most times it is this way, we do not do things ourselves, we are only guardians who watch and see what must be done and find the ones who will be able to do what must be done.”

           “But _why_?”

           “So we don’t fall pray to _pride_ , that is the downfall of so many in this world.” He tilted his head and mumbled to himself. “Actually, since this world was not yet shaped at all…”

           Wolfram grabbed his staff and took in a deep breath, trying to concentrate. Closing his eyes, he closed himself to all noise around him and rumbling in his own head. He had never spent time with meditation and stuff, but he knew how to concentrate on a given experiment in the lab, and tried to do the same.

           “Daddy? Father?”

           Iris voice reached him after several minutes of worry about his apparent trance. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw the sky blue eyes of his hobbit daughter, reaching her tiny hand to his face.

           “That’s it!”

           “That is _what_?”

           “Come with me, you will know it when we get there!” He shouted as he passed Radagast in his hurry.

           Iris ran behind her long shanked father, which already used to be hard when she was human sized, and almost impossible in her three-feet stature.

           “Ouch, Dad, you are talking like a wizard!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

           They had just turned a corridor when they heard a cry and made to run faster, as if possible. Bombur’s house was a large one in the royal wing, or what was called _the palace_ , even if it was excavated in the living rock the same as most of the dwellings in Erebor. It just had more privacy, for the sake of security, less entrances and better guarded ones. Being two of the most expected visitors the mountain had at the time granted them free pass to where they needed to go. Wolfram knocked the wide door with his staff.

           A frightened Bombur opened the door and made them enter in a hurry.

           “Come in, come in, Mahal be praised if you are able to help her!”

           Another cry told them exactly where to head to, and the frown on Óin’s face told them what they needed to know.

           “How long is Dahl in labour?”

           “Since short after midday. She was so happy, and it had been so easy with the twins, we didn’t think…”

           Bombur collapsed on a chair beside his wife, hiding his tears so his wife wouldn’t see them. Óin had his stethoscope at hand and verified the baby’s heartbeat with it.

           “Óin…?”

           The healer and the obstetric practitioner talked in a low tone so not to alarm the others, Óin’s selective deafness completely forgotten. Wolfram sat in a corner, not knowing what to do, anguished with his own memories of a disastrous birth.

           “The baby is getting tired, his heart is beating faster and weaker, and Dahl is getting weak. Not a good omen, not at all.”

           “Is she dilated?”

           “Yes, wholly, or I’m an elf. But the baby seems to be stuck, and I don’t want to cut in while there is a chance of her to live. The chance of infection is too high to risk surgery, and she would never get over the trauma of the pain of being cut alive.”

           Iris cursed silently the absence of antibiotics and anaesthesia in Middle-Earth and got close to Dahl’s face, making the dwarrowdam to look at her.

           “Dahl, I want to help you. I’ll try to help the baby, do you understand?”

           The tired woman just nodded. Iris wiped her sweated brow with her hand and went on.

           “I’ll have to touch you in order to help you, it may hurt a little, but I’ll try to be gentle.”

           She just nodded again, and Iris went to a nearby table to wash her hands thoroughly in a basin. Next she asked Óin for alcohol, but the best he had in stock was a strong beverage distilled of wheat. Another cry made her hurry with her preparation, but she would not risk infection either, and cursed under her breath the absence of latex gloves in Middle-Earth. She was beginning to think she would have a lot of things to curse yet, but stored it in the back of her mind as she got back to her patient.

           In the while Wolfram overcame his ghosts enough to question Bombur.

           “Why didn’t you tell that she was in labour? We could have come sooner!”

           Bombur felt miserable.

           “We didn’t think it would happen this way! She was so happy, she wanted to make a surprise for everyone, for me to go to the banquet to show the baby while she rested from the birth, but…”

           The red haired dwarf broke in tears with the next cry of his wife, and the man patted gently his back as he coaxed Bombur to the kitchen. Whatever was yet to happen, it would be better for him to be out of the bedroom.

           “Now I want you to breath and try to relax, Dahl.”

           Iris had felt the baby through Dahl’s belly and now probed her passage; she had to agree with Óin, Dahl was completely dilated. The water had broken earlier, and it would have to be a dry birth. Anyway, if her suspicion was right, she would have to break the water anyway.

           Another cry made her stop her movements and to wait for the contraction to end. With a light move she reached the crown of the baby, right in position but not inlaid as it should. Thanking Yavanna for her tiny hobbit hands, Iris slid her fingers with extreme care beside the baby’s face, until she found what she wanted.

           She felt the pressure in her wrist with the next cry and contraction and waited only enough to be able to move again. Very carefully, the umbilical cord that circled the baby’s neck was reeled off, which was only possible because the dwarfling didn’t inlay itself in the birth passage, probably because of the very umbilical cord holding him back.

           When Iris retrieved her hand, slow and carefully, a strong contraction followed it, a racking cry that pierced her ears.

           “Dahl, you must push now. The baby is free to come, but you must push!”

           She spoke through her contorted breathing.

           “I can’t, I can no more!”

           “Dahl, you _must_! If you don’t push, the baby will die!” And she along, Iris thought, but kept it to herself. She turned to the older healer. “Óin, do you know how to do a Kristeller?”

           “A _what_?”

           “Forget it. You are stronger than me, but then it must be done gently anyway else the uterus can be ruptured and then everything is lost. Just be prepared to take the baby.”

           They changed positions and Iris put her hands firmly on the top of Dahl’s belly, waiting for the next contraction.

           “Now, Dahl, _push_!”

           The woman felt the help of the tiny hobbit hands and felt her own pride shout at her. If someone so small was willing to use all her strength to help her baby live, so would she.

           “ _Maker help me_!”

           And seemingly to help the Maker did; half a dozen strong contractions and down the baby slid, a hairy crown and chubby cheeks; the strong, lusty cry brought a desperate Bombur back to the bedroom, quickly followed by a smiling Wolfram and Radagast too, who had finally reached Bombur’s house in a slower pace.

           Iris cleansed the baby’s mouth while checking the other vitals, smiling at the kicking dwarfling as she deftly bind the umbilical cord to cut it. A soft cotton cloth was quickly wrapped around the infant to keep the chill of the night air at bay.

           “Shoo, you curious brats, she is not ready yet!”

           Óin kicked out both father and wizards who hadn’t the decency to wait to be called in, as Dahl had yet to deal with the afterbirth. The tiny being was put on her stomach, warmed by the mother’s body, and soon her angry cries calmed down. Some time after the third stage of delivery Dahl had slept also and the healer came out with the tiny bundle of joy and handled it to his long time friend.

           “Now, Master Bombur, it seems you can quarrel with your brother about a certain nickname, huh? Being father both of twins and of a girl?”

           “No, Óin, I don’t care to be _called_ ‘lucky’, all I care is that I _feel_ lucky, I _am_ so very lucky, because I still have my Jewel, and now I have this beautiful, beautiful tiny gem here!”

           He had his eyes full of tears as he gazed at his little daughter. Girls were rare, he had not only one in his close family, no sister, no female cousin, and his father had only brothers; how would he be able to deal with that little delicate thing? Albeit the twins had been tinier that her, it was the girl he feared to break in his hands, because she was so, so precious…

           “Bombur, we’ll ask for food to be brought here, don’t leave them alone, Dahl must rest and the baby will soon be hungry.”

           “Thank you, Iris, I forgot to eat…”

           “This must be the first time I hear something like this coming from you, lad!”

           “You would forget more than to eat, Óin, if your wife were…” Bombur voice was cut by a harsh sob.

           “Hush, it’s alright, it’s over now…”

           “I wanted to get help when Óin told me it was taking too long, but Dahl begged me not to leave her alone, and I didn’t know what to do, and, and…”

           He held the sleeping baby closer to him, delicately touching her face with his moustache. She grimaced at the rough touch, but seemed content, and wringed her petite fingers in his beard.

           “And now there is a beautiful girl in your arms, to be raised with wisdom and love. I am sure she will have lots of it in this blessed family and kingdom.”

           Bombur half smiled, unable to keep his eyes from his precious daughter.

           “Iris, Óin, will you please tell the boys they have a sister and beg them to come home? We didn’t tell them anything, it was to be a surprise…”

           “Aye, I will, but I’ll make’em sleep at Bofur or Bifur, you three need a lot of rest and not worrying about those lads right now.”

           “Thank you, Óin, I don’t know how I can thank you enough…”

           “Try with some cookies. They have a wonderful effect on anyone who has ever tasted them.”

           The small group lifted their eyes to the upcoming visitor, who flapped his wings to land graciously on the back of a chair.

           “Rärc!”

           “In flesh, bones and silky feathers!” He peeped at the bundle in Bombur’s arms, curious. “Hmm, a hatchling!” The large raven tilted his head. “By the size, it will have to eat a lot of worms to grow enough to leave the nest, I’d say.”

           Óin shook his head at the mother-craft advices the raven king admonished and Bombur thanked the bird.

           “Thank you for your visit, Mister Rärc! I’ll tell Dahl when she wakes up, she will see it as a good omen!”

           “Never mind, cookie man!” He turned to the hobbit. “It is you who I came for, tough. Your wait is over. The banquet has already a bunch of messmates that weren’t there before.”

           “Can someone _not_ talk to me in riddles today, please?”

           The raven croaked in a way that sounded like laughter.

           “A small group just came in heading from Dale. There is a man, a skin-changer, some elves and a many hobbits. I thought you would like to know it.”

           Iris’ eyes widened in delight and she just ran out of Bombur’s house.

           “Bilbo!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – See Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart, Chapter 11 – Cotion of Ponfusion, Booster  
> 2 – Before you think it is an impossible maneuver, a friend of mine actually had his second baby held by the umbilical cord around his neck, and her obstetrician managed to untangle it by hand – and she was not even a hobbit!


	35. Love is Patient

            “You… you are my _best_ friend!”

            Dwalin smiled at the half drunken elf who greeted him with this statement as he got back to the table after the Durin’s Awakening Song dance. The Iced Fire flask in the buckle of ice was more than three quarters down, and Aredhel’s dizzy gaze transpired why. He pushed the buckle away from her reach as he sat down, with a gruff.

            “Hey! Don’t take my shots away, it is not fair!”

            “It is not fair to stomp both feet in a watermelon, either, and that’s what you’re doing.”

            “You are funny!”

            “I’m not funny, I’m a warrior.”

            “My wife was a warrior, and she was funny.”

            “I’m not yer wife.”

            Aredhel held Dwalin by the shoulders and looked seriously at him, as seriously as her drunken state allowed.

            “No… You are not… You’re my _best_ friend, ever!”

            “It is not possible that I’m your best friend ever, Aredhel. Ye sure found people to be good friends with along your don’t-know-how-much-thousands of years.”

            “No!” She protested, a finger up to make her point stand out. “No friend ever danced dwarvish dances with me, and they are… (hicup!) _fun_!”

            Dwalin beckoned the barman to him and got a jar of water, pouring her a cup.

            “Here, you will thank me for this tomorrow.”

            She took a sip of water and wrinkled her nose.

            “This is not funny! You don’t like me, Dwalin; why don’t you like me so much that you give me plain water?”

            “Mahal, you’re not making sense anymore. Now be a good lass and drink your water.”

            “No!” She protested again, pouting. “Water makes me sad; I cry so much for Nellas that her path to Mandos is full of water-lilies and lotus and thalias and she is wading through a swamp of my tears with irises and cattails all around her…”

            Not knowing what to do with her statement, Dwalin took a sip of water himself, shaking his head.

            “You!” His head shake was interrupted by the elf’s hands that grabbed him by the cheeks. “You are… my _best_ friend… _really_!”

            “Ouch, come on, enough of this!”

            But her hands held him in an iron grip.

            “Who would even drink _water_ with me if not my _best_ friend?”

            He saw the opportunity and grabbed it with both hands.

            “Then, get your hands off my face and drink your water as a good lassie should, hmm? Just because you’re my friend.”

            “Yeah! We will drink water together!”

            “Aye, drink, lassie, drink it all down…”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The wards at the front Gate of Erebor made some stableman to take their ponies and horses and provided that their few belongings would be sent to designed chambers that were ready for weeks already. It was late at night but Bilbo had no intention of wasting time in Dale and they had headed directly to the dwarf kingdom with the transport they rented in the harbour in the north of the lake.

            “Look at these pillars! And these vaults! Bilbo, you told us it was a mighty place, but no tale of yours really paid justice to this!”

            Bilbo could only smile at his cousins’ excitement.

            “First time I was here it was all covered in dust and dragon filth, I could not tell you anything different from what I told. Then next year it was in its first steps to rebuilding, and very far from what you’re seeing. Lake-Town has changed too, as it was rebuilt, but a town in the middle of a lake is a town in the middle of a lake, rain or shine. Dale is a wonderful surprise, too, as it was badly damaged, but I had seen little of it then, we were focused on Erebor, of course. But this…” He gazed around with arms open at the halls full of light. “This is amazing! What wouldn’t Thorin give to see this place restored to its glory! What a shame he had to die in battle so soon after he reclaimed what was his birthright.”

            The memory of his former ‘ _employer_ ’ tasted bittersweet, but there was nothing that could undo the past, for good or evil. Thorin was gone, as was Fíli, but life goes on and here he was to meet his bride and to marry her after all the years of waiting. He hoped she had already come through the Mirror Lake Gate, in the deeps of the mountain, else he would stay at its margins day and night until she came. His musings were cut short by an errand boy who came in a hurry towards them.

            “Mister Bilbo Baggins?”

            Bilbo bowed low.

            “At your service!”

            “Lórin, at yours and your family’s! You and your company are expected; if you are not over tired of your journey, then the King Under the Mountain will be happy if you’ll follow me.”

            “Expected, this late of the night? I’d expect everybody would be asleep by now!”

            The boy smiled under his stubble of a beard and growing moustache that reminded Bilbo of a mix of Kíli and Fíli when they first met.

            “Usually, sir, but tonight we are feasting several visitors, from Mirkwood and the North-Easterlingas, and our Queen’s family that arrived yesterday. You and your Company have been expected for long, and even if there weren’t a banquet the royal family would have been warned of your coming anyway.”

            They walked with Lórin for several minutes, being obvious the lad was excited to guide the famous Bilbo Baggins and his friends along the kingdom. A long set of stairs made them face a silver fountain sparkling with gems of different colours, the light of the torches dancing in the water, and not far from it they reached a wide hall from where they had been hearing music from a while already. The large doors opened to allow them in, and a pair of wards announced their presence, even if most of the guest would not be able to hear them at all.

            “Prim, we’re not dressed for a ball like this, not by far!”

            Beryl elbowed her best friend, wide eyed at the magnificence of the place.

            “We lost everything in the avalanche, and we didn’t expect to be greeted like this; so, I think the simple gowns we purchased in Lake-Town will have to do, we being comfortable with it or not.”

            Most of the assembled dwarves was drunk enough to don’t take much notice of them, but as they headed to the main table the strange group of tall elves and short hobbits begun to be more and more seen and greeted as long expected visitors. A pair of strangers, to most of them, stood up and greeted them warmly.

            “Mae govanen, Elladan, Elrohir!” (1)

            “Elen síla lúmen omentielvo, Legolas!” (2)

            “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Tauriel, my fiancée.”

            The auburn haired elf curtsied with grace and a smile, and both brothers took her hand at the same time to kiss it, to the amusement of them all.

            Figwit and Culuin waited their turn to greet the famous captain of the silvan elves guard and her prince (not that they were anyhow interested in said prince), but Estel kept his place as if he were a simple ranger of the north, as most people deemed his people. Not a minute later Elrohir grabbed him by the elbow and brought him to the front of the group, making him look a bit confused by the attention.

            “I don’t believe you have met my sworn brother, Estel, of the Dúnedain. Aragorn, Legolas is son of Thranduil of Doriath, son of Oropher and king over Mirkwood.”

            The rough man bowed low, but the elf didn’t show any sign of pride for his titles nor scowl to the simple introduction to the human, and greeted him with a hand on his heart.

            “The darkness that looms on the forest of my land has heard of you, son of Arathorn. No evil stays in the way of your sword, and for that our people acknowledges your skill.”

            “As my people acknowledges the people of Eryn Lasgalen for their stand against all kind of darkness, Lord of the Green Leaves.”

            Legolas half smiled at Elrohir.

            “No simpleton would be raised by Lord Elrond Half-Elven, it is obvious.”

            “No one risen by Lord Elrond would be a simpleton, I dare say.”

            They all laughed heartedly, and headed for the table.

            The hobbits didn’t even notice the Big People’s interaction, as a wobbling figure made for them propped on a cane.

            “Ferumbras Took! Goodness, I’ve never been so happy to see a fool of a Took than today, my friend!”

            “Bilbo Baggins! Of all strange adventures you’ve told us, cousin, I never dreamt that I would be part of the strangest of them!”

            They embraced warmly, but Bilbo felt guilty seeing his cousin leaning on a cane.

            “You’re alive, but not unscathed. It is my fault, I should not have brought you with me, none of you.”

            Ferumbras shook his head.

            “Never mind. I’m better off than Lady Nellas, and I’m so sad because of it.”

            “We heard about her being... lost..., though we don’t know exactly what happened, it was one of Beorn’s squirrels that brought us the sad news. How is Lady Aredhel? They were so... close...”

            The sad look in his Took cousin face made Bilbo regret having asked, but seeing his discomfort Ferumbras took his arm and made him sit down along with him, resolution in his eyes.

            “They were not _close_ , they _loved_ each other. We almost lost Lady Aredhel too, to _grief_. But a crazy healer in Mirkwood suggested a way to force her out of it, and Gwen – this is a human woman we found on our way, Gwendolin is her name – made her best to heal her, to make her change focus, and I believe she is slowly getting out of the darkness she was stuck in. She seems to be gone a bit crazy, though, but at least she is not spent on a couch crying herself to oblivion anymore.”

            “And your wound? We were so afraid of the poisoning.”

            “A small scar on my back, and a slight limp, that’s all. I don’t know if I ever will be free of this limp, but when I think that some days I could barely breathe, I must recognize I’m really blessed.”

            “When did you reach Erebor? Using the elf path you should be here long before us, who used the south road.”

            “Maybe, but we spent a lot of time in Thranduil’s halls until I was able to travel again. You know, Bilbo, you said a lot of things about the elven king, but he didn’t seem that bad to me. Just a little too proud, maybe.”

            “He is not bad. He just had the same greed that charged Thorin once. I hope he is healed the same as Thorin, though.” Bilbo fingered his suspenders as he took a better look around. “Have you been here for long? Do you know about the… visitors?”

            Ferumbras smiled at his cousin’s obvious anxiety.

            “We came in just today’s afternoon; but if you are asking about a certain fire haired hobbit lass, I can tell you she is absurdly anxious to see you again, and if I had known her some decades ago I would surely contend with you on who should be granted her grace, you fool of a Baggins!”        

            Bilbo stood up and looked around wildly.

            “But where...?

            Ferumbras hooked him down with his cane.

            “She and her father left some time ago, I don’t know if they were tired or whatever; but eleven out of each ten words she spoke were about you, so I don’t believe you should worry about her.”

            “Ferumbras, my friend, do you know what it is to wait _twenty-eight years_ for someone and then she is not there? Can you imagine how I feel?”

            Ferumbras scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes at him.

            “I won’t spoil your wedding, my friend, but do you know what it is to give up waiting because the one you love will _never_ be there for you?”

            Bilbo looked at Ferumbras under a different light.

            “What...?”

            The dark haired Took weaved him off.

            “Never mind.

            Just at that moment the remaining bunch of hobbits made to their way to their Took cousin, and everything was impossible to be heard and to be understood. Beryl, Paladin and Ferdinand made clear that Ferumbras was _their_ hobbit and the Brandibuck side of the family had to fight hard to at least ruffle his hair; Drogo and Dudo Baggins quickly made friends with the bartender, so wine and ale were not a problem in that patch of the table anymore, and there was enough food left for even the hobbits’ appetite.

            “It is an unspeakable joy to be again in the company of so a courageous burglar, I must say!”

            “Lady Dís!”

            Bilbo bowed low and took her hand to kiss it, deviating from the innumerable rings and wristlets of every kind of precious metals and jewels. Her hair showed a bit more silver, but her face was brighter, lighter than he remembered, as was expected considering that last time she had just lost her firstborn and her brother. She had been happy to see her youngest getting married, even if to an elf, but her pain was still too fresh. Now it all was decades over, and the strong Durin heiress had overcome her losses, once again.

            “Made a good journey, Bilbo?”

            “As good as possible without your company, Milady!”

            She laughed.

            “Always charming, this daring halfling!”

            “Mister _Boggins_!”

            The known misspelling with his name made Bilbo turn around with a bright smile in his face, even if the bearded figure who stood before him resembled little the reckless dwarf barely come of age who rang the bell at his green round door ages ago. The dark beard was a tad longer than Thorin’s by then, and moustache braids made him look like a brunette Fíli. His hair bore several braids, one for his choosing by Ellen, one for his commitment with the people of Durin as crown heir, one for his coronation, one for his wedding along with the one of his compromise. Not that his hair didn’t look wild as ever, but it was quite different.

            “Kíli!” They embraced warmly. “It looks like your fauntlings didn’t give you a single silver hair yet, huh? For what Dwalin told when he visited, I’d expect you to be as bald as him by now!”

            “I would, if I took them as seriously as Thorin took me and Fíli; but I know they are just children, and I don’t pretend that I’ve never been one. Then it gets easy!”

            Kíli headed Bilbo to his side on the table, where he was greeted by Ellen and Lily besides some of the members of the Company who lingered there, some tired of dancing, some enjoying the food and the drink, some simply rejoicing in their company. Bilbo felt more than welcomed by them, and more at home than he felt in the Shire since he came back from his adventure. Bofur was one who made sure Bibo had as much ale as he could dream about, and Balin head-butted him as if he were a family member.

            To see Lily smiling was a gift, as he saw how hard the blow of losing Thorin had been on her, and the whole lot of children from Kíli, Bofur, Bombur and surprisingly Ori only made him laugh at their antics and efforts to catch ‘Uncle Bilbo’s’ attention, mostly when they promised they’d play a staging of the Retaking of Erebor; unfortunately Kim, who would play his part, being the smallest one in their little troupe, had fallen asleep cuddled with the Sun-Cheng dog. Chao was dozing by their side, resolute in his promise that Liao Wang would do no harm to the little princess.

            The Sun-Cheng delegation was astounded by the halfling party, as they had already heard about elves, but the Little People had been no more than a distant legend to them until then. The hobbits found out that the strange northern people was not something out of legends, too, and that is was rather interesting they had shared habits, like giving forth gifts at one’s birthday and celebrating marriages with vows spelled under the knots of colourful ribbons. The marriage issue came out almost spontaneously when they heard that Bilbo was about to get married, and then he got aware that his fiancée was still not to be seen. Wang, the shaman, was very careful in explaining their habits, and Tsui very proud of having married Wang’s first-born, Mei. Their difference in age was not exaggerated for human people, but Bilbo felt like that Mei woman had been almost a child when married to a man the double of her age, and it didn’t seem right to him, even if Iris was now less than half his age; she had come of age, anyway, and was accounted as an adult by any standards. For what he understood, Mei had married a couple of moths past her fifteenth birthday, and he knew it was early even for humans. But then, living on the edge of eternal ice was bound to have a price, and maybe that was one of them.

            “They must have a nest nearby if they are flocking in like this!”

            “What?” Bilbo heard the harsh voice and turned his head to the ravens who were currently finishing a bowl with what looked like eye globes. Disgusting, of course, but then, with ravens...

            “Of course not, chickie, don’t you know some of them use to migrate according to the season?”

            “But if it is autumn they should be migrating south, like the golden-eyed ones clearly did.”

            “You don’t expect all walker races to be that smart, do you?”

            “Pardon me?”

            Only then the birds seemed to take notice that Bilbo was paying attention to their conversation, and tilted their heads at him to take a better look.

            “Crrr. The small walker here seems to be the smart one of the hatch.”

            The hobbit smiled, amused, and bowed at them.

            “Bilbo Baggins, at your service!”

            “Rärc, son of Röac, and I don’t need your service.”

            “Father! Don’t be so harsh on the walker, if he is a friend to Durin’s line, he is a friend of ours too.” The younger raven turned to Bilbo with an apologetic look. “Don’t mind my father, he’s just snappish because Bombur didn’t send him cookies as promised, but I was talking to him that there must be a serious reason for it.”

            “Really, I was wondering why he is not around when everybody is just enjoying the banquet. I don’t believe he would miss it willingly.”

            “Bombur is a round fellow more prone to roll than to fly, but I wouldn’t expect him to break a promise.”

            “But what worries me most is that I’m not seeing my bride anywhere. Did you, by any chance, se a hobbit lass this tall, red hair, sky blue eyes?” He asked, showing her height with his hand. If they were at the banquet since the beginning there was a chance they had seen her, as he was sure she would be at the main table.

            “Crrr. A small thing to find in this crowd, but aye, she was here before.”

            “Hmm, and, ah, would there be any chance that you or your lovely daughter could help me to find them? You know, looking from above is always easier than to walking around among this bunch of dwarves, and I believe your eyes must be as keen as those of you father, the mighty Röac.”

            If the taste for cajoling was by any chance passed along from father to son, Bilbo didn’t know, but it worked just the same.

            “Of course we can! We are the most able for this task, by any measure!” Proud Röac turned to his daughter. “Crîck, you take a tour in this storey, if a walker is only lost somewhere it is more probable that it doesn’t use stairs; I’ll make for the royal wing, as the fire-crest is nested in the King’s house; we come back in one hour straight.”

            And with that they flew, leaving a hopeful hobbit waiting for the one he waited so long already.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “Ah, Ulfir! I should know that if I want to find a pretty girl, I should look for you first. How is Lara faring?”

            The ward off duty stood up and bowed to the elf.

            “Mother is well, thank you very much, Lady Ellen; a little sore in the joints as she uses to be when it gets colder, but not worse than last year.”

            “I’m glad to hear it; she should ask the healer for a hot poultice, it might help, mostly in winter.”

            “Thank you very much, Milady, I’ll tell her.”

            “Send her my greetings, too; I might pay her a visit next time I go to Dale, if the Lords can spare me some time.”

            “She will be most pleased, Milady, I’m sure.”

            The woman turned to the Earthling beside the ward, with a delicate smile in her face.

            “So, here you are, Gwendolin! I hope you’re enjoying the feast...?”

            She had risen from her chair as soon as the queen approached them and had been fidgeting during all her talk with Ulfir, uncomfortable. It had been bad enough to be called a witch and be sent to the dungeons once in the day, she didn’t want to seem disrespectful by any means.

            “Sure I am, Queen Ellen, it is really the most astounding banquet I ever attended!” Unsure of what to say, she just rambled on. “Not that I have attended any real banquet that resembles this one in my life, but the church parties the nuns took me to used to have a lot of people too, at least.”

            “I’m glad; you’ll enjoy my niece’s wedding, then, as my brother will go back to your… _kingdom_ … only some weeks after it; I hope you don’t mind, but it is the only way we can help you to go back.”

            “I thank you very much, Milady.” Gwendolin answered, mimicking the way she noticed Ulfir address the elf. “In the while, if there is any way I can make my presence here useful, I’ll glad to help with anything I’m able.”

            “I don’t know about helping.” Ellen tilted her head. “But I’d like to invite you to spend the time you’ll have to wait until my brother goes back to your kingdom hosted in my home, if you don’t mind. I believe it will be more comfortable for you to be around people who know about those distant lands, if you take my meaning.”

            Gwendolin heard it, understood the meaning of the words, but found it hard to believe.

            “You mean… your house… along with your family… I…”

            “If you don’t feel like being along my bunch of dwelfling brats I completely understand, dear, no problem.”

            “No, it’s not it, I like children, I’ve helping with the younger ones in the orphanage for years!” All she didn’t want to was to offend the woman and by any means risk to be sent to the dungeons again. “It’s just that, you see, I’m just a Jane Doe, I don’t know if it would be right for me to…”

            “Just as it wasn’t right for you to be dragged to the dungeons by my brother; so, if there is no other thing I can say to convince you, then, please, think of it as a compensation for the injustice done to you earlier today. I would not sleep in peace if by any means you’re not assured you are welcome as it should.” The blonde’s jaw dropped just a little and the elf smiled as she said, just before turning around and leaving so Gwendolin could not reply. “I’ll take is as a ‘ _yes_ ’. Bye!”

            Ulfir, amused, touched her chin just enough for her to remember to close her mouth.

            “What… in heaven…”

            “You have been granted a great honour, I must say.”

            “I feel like in a rollercoaster.”

            “In a _what_?”

            “Ah, forget it. I’m still trying to make out what all this is about.”

            “She is just that way, you’ll get used in time.”

            Inside, Gwendolin hoped the queen really was just that way, but also that she would _not_ have time to get used to it. Even welcomed as a royal guest, all she wanted was to be back home, to her costume drawing, her nuns and all those simple things that said the world she lived was real.

           

ooo000ooo

 

            It took only the lapse of time for Dwalin to visit the restroom and when he was back Aredhel had taken the Iced Fire flask again, and her look was so funny he didn’t know if he laughed of if he cried. Looking around for help and finding none available, he did what he would truly do if he were the _best friend_ the elf insisted he was: made her to stand up and guided her to her chambers, first with an arm around her waist to keep her balance and later hauling her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, when it became obvious that she wasn’t able to walk any further.

            “ _Best friend_ , really!” He mumbled under his breath as he made for yet another set of stairs. “I’ll show you your _best friend_ once you are sober!”

            The elf mumbled something incomprehensible as an answer and Dwalin opened the door of the guest room Legolas and Tauriel used to take when visiting and sought for a bedroom where Aredhel’s spear was to be seen. Setting the drunken lady on an armchair whilst he pushed the bed covers aside, he was almost to slow to grab her when she slid down the chair, legs like butter underneath her.

            “You are… my _best_ …”

            Aredhel was unable to finish her phrase as she retched all over Dwalin, who furrowed his brows and shook his head at the sick elf, his tunic and her gown completely messed up.

            “Mahal save me from the friendliness of the elves!”

            He poured water from a jar to a basin on the vanity and made his best to wash her face from the stinky mess. Not enough, he was sure, and made up his mind to do things right. He pulled his tunic over his head, taking care not to smear the filth in his beard and hair, and used what of it was still clean to wipe the worse off her gown, ignoring her incomprehensible babbling in high-elvish. Not enough, he thought again, and shook his head at the only option that would work.

            “Not how I’d rather do it, but…”

            Unable to figure out how to unfasten the fancy dress the elf wore, Dwalin took out a knife he used to wear in his boot and cut the gown open from shoulder to waist, so he could strip Aredhel off her nasty smelling clothes. Mahal help him she would not remember the sordiddetails by morning, but he would not put her to sleep in such an awful state. After laying the woman on the bed and covering her with a soft coverlet, he caught the shreds of her clothes and threw them to a corner, then got his dirty tunic and was making for the door when she spoke something understandable again.

            “No… don’t leave me alone, you’re my… (hicup!) _best_ friend, Dwalin!”

            Pitying her state, he glanced back to the drunken elf.

            “Sleep, lass. It is the best remedy for ye now.”

            “I can’t! I can’t sleep, Dwalin, please… Nellas _always_ made me sleep, I have Nellas no more, how am I _supposed_ to sleep?”

            He could see she was crying now, but her voice was less drunk than before. Dwalin could stand many things but a crying woman was not one of them. He came back and sat down on the edge of the bed.

            “How’re ye sleeping since she… departed…?”

            “I don’t!” She sobbed, holding him fast and leaning her face to his bare shoulder. “I go on and on until I collapse for a couple of hours, or a healer drugs me, but I never sleep, I never have peace, when I doze off she haunts my dreams, my beautiful Velvet, with her crystal clear laughter, dancing in the dark, wandering among the water-lilies…”

            The battle-worn warrior caressed her hair, massaging soothing circles on her back, rocking Aredhel back and forth like a baby.

            “Hush, lass, hush, it will be all right, it will heal in time…”

            Dwalin knew it wouldn’t, but that was what he was able to do to his nieces when one of them took a tumble and a scratch in the knee, and this was all his experience in consoling women.

            It was a long time until her tears dried and her breath evened again, and a longer yet until Dwalin woke up with the elf in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – Welcome.  
> 2 – A star shines in the hour of our meeting.


	36. Onomatopoeias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Iris encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heart beats fast  
> Colors and promises  
> How to be brave  
> How can I love when I'm afraid to fall  
> But watching you stand alone  
> All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow  
> One step closer  
> I have died every day waiting for you  
> Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you  
> For a thousand years  
> I'll love you for a thousand more  
> Time stands still  
> Beauty in all she is  
> I will be brave  
> I will not let anything take away  
> What's standing in front of me  
> Every breath  
> Every hour has come to this  
> One step closer  
> I have died every day waiting for you  
> Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you  
> For a thousand years  
> I'll love you for a thousand more  
> And all along I believed I would find you  
> Time has brought your heart to me  
> I have loved you for a thousand years  
> I'll love you for a thousand more  
> One step closer  
> One step closer
> 
> (Christina Perri – A Thousand Years)

            _Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap_.

            The sound of bare feet on the stone floor was steady and fast. The light of the torches reflected in innumerable mirrors and crystals, reminding her of a London lost in a Sherlock Holmes movie. One of the classics, not the modern BBC TV series, of course. But this strange London had no sky, only a high vaulted ceiling, lost hundreds of yards above her head.

            _Flap flap flap flap flap flap flap_.

            The sound of wings accompanied her, sometimes further away, as they doubtless led their owner faster than her tiny hairy feet could carry her, sometimes flying back to give her time to reach her feathered guide, as she was not used at all to wander in those mighty halls. The way to Bombur’s house had been a hurried chase after her father, and his height gave him an enormous advantage on her, who ran after him not even caring to look around to know her way back.

            _Thump a thump a thump a thump a thump a thump a thump_.

            The sound of her heartbeat sounded in her ears like drums played by a giant – suddenly she remembered the stone giants battling in the Misty Mountains, and how he had saved her from sure fall and death, and how she almost lost Bilbo then when he himself slipped from the wet stone ledge – but she could not stop, not now, not when he was so _close_ , not when she had waited for this day for so long. Her heart had to be strong to withstand the anxiety burning in her veins, had to be strong so she would not explode in an overflow of joy when she saw him again.

            It was not that long a run, but to her it was _eternity_ until she saw the wide doors that led to the feasting hall and she could hear the clap of hands setting the pace of the current music, the clashes of metal mugs of the ones rejoicing in their beverages; the wards at the door creaked it open and all the sounds became clearer, the crackling of the fire in the hearths that kept the place cosy and warm, shielding it from the cold autumn wind outside, the raspy voices of the bards of two different bands in a song duel, the rumble of conversation all around... She could only complain to herself that being a hobbit had its disadvantages, as simply _everybody_ there was taller than her and it was too much alike to be lost in a community barbecue when you are a six-year-old child. Even Rärc had disappeared.

            Crap, she had no superpower of knowing where people were, even the ones she loved most; and having come in through a different door than the one she had gone out and yet other one than that she had come in first time didn’t help at all. Hell with it, she at least knew where to find her family, as the _high table_ had this name for a reason, _duh_! And finding them she hoped it would not be that hard to find Bilbo, as he was being expected by everyone in the kingdom just as her when she came through the Mirror Gate – was it really just the day before?

            Making her way to the high table was harder than she thought, as the dwarves had a couple of hours more to drink their health whilst she was gone; and the result was similar to the mess she lived with the Company in Lake-Town, only then it was just thirteen dwarves, fourteen is she counted her sister, and now it was... _three hundred_? She went dizzy. Ellen had mentioned it was only a welcome banquet, the Company, some visitors, the members of the Council of Lords, some warriors of the Guard who were off duty and some citizens of Erebor, and their respective families, of course. _Nothing magnificent as your wedding is bound to be, of course_ , she said. Having led a quite low-profile life in her birth-world, so to speak, she wondered what a _magnificent_ wedding party _was bound to be_ in a Middle-Earth standpoint.

            But she would have time enough to think about it in the next two or three weeks, as her wedding would be held along Durin’s Day festivities, so the whole of the kingdom would be able to rejoice in the marriage of two members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. First time it happened she had been far away, back in her world, helping her sister to cope with said Thorin’s death and her father to figure out what to do with her aunt’s absence, as they had been the harbour of each other since their parents’ death and mostly one year later, her mother’s. She shook her head, dismissing the sadness she felt for never having met her mother, harping that at least she never had the chance to have any disappointment with her. Would Ruby be proud of her now? Would she cry at her wedding? Would she approve of Bilbo? And if Ruby didn’t, would she care?

            All these thoughts spin through her mind in a million miles per minute rate, while her eyes gazed all around searching for any known face, or at least to see a raven again; knowing Bilbo had not reached Erebor before her had been a blow, but now, knowing he was there, somewhere, was simply impossible to deal with. She would shout out his name if she had any hope to be heard above the surrounding commotion.

            Finally she got near the high table, taking a lift with a bartender’s cart so she would not have to walk any further; not that it was a very appropriate means of transportation amongst the dwarves or any other race she knew about, but sightseeing Erebor, feasting, dancing, midwifing and running back to the banquet hall was not really what she deemed appropriate for an ordinary hobbit’s day, and not even for an extraordinary one. So it was that being perched on a beverage cart like if she were a special drink herself didn’t seem that strange to her. She was tired, her limbs told her so, even if she wanted to ignore them.

            “Iris, dear, where have you been? There is someone very special looking for you like a madman right now!”

            Iris jumped from the beverage cart and landed ungraciously beside her smiling aunt.

            “Where is he? Where is Bilbo?”

            “He was here not a minute ago, talking to Kíli, Figwit and Estel; it looks like they are working out a search party to find you, even if I told them it was foolish, you could not be far from here.” The elf looked around trying to find some of the others. “By the way, you were…?”

            The hobbit lass answered the incomplete question.

            “Tending Dahl, her baby is born, it’s a girl!”

            “A girl? This is wonderful, marvellous news! I had the feeling someone was missing, but with that many people around you never get the chance to think straight.”

            “I can believe it.” Iris looked around, nervous. “But where is Bilbo now?”

            “Come here, your aunt is too soft to solve this kind of thing dwarvish style, but then what can we expect from an _elf_?” Dís took her by the hand and led her to the small stage where the musicians did their job. With not much more than a nod and a wave of her hand, the matriarch made the music stop and borrowed a pair of large cymbals, which she hit full force three times. If the song stopping before it was over made several dwarves to look in the stage direction, the clashing of metal against metal sure made the remaining ones to do the same.

            “Now that I have your rapt attention, dear guests, I’d like to announce that my Little Daughter here has lost something and we’d be happy to have your help to find it.” Iris felt herself blush in all shades of red, all eyes on her. Discreetness was sure not a virtue Dís made any effort to develop, but then, why should she? “There are more halflings amongst us, who just arrived, you may have noticed; there is one of them, an old friend very dear to me and to the Goblin King’s Bane that is awaited for right here at the stage. Has anyone seen Master Bilbo Baggins, the Burglar of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield?”

            Iris asked herself how Dís managed to make herself heard in so wide a hall with no help of any kind of amplifier, but it could very well be an effect of the hall’s architecture, or maybe the dwarrowdam had voice projection techniques? Distracting her mind from the awkward situation helped her to recompose her natural skin colour, but then she saw the crowd before her step aside like the Red Sea opening for Moses to cross it with his people.

            Bilbo heard Dís from the other side of the hall and stopped in his tracks, turning back from his deranged search for Iris and looking in the direction of the stage. His fingers played with the lid of his pocket, tempted to vanish under so many eyes gazing at him, but he knew it would do him no good right then, to give away his burglary tool just for the shame of being the center of all attentions. Better to get used to it, he thought, sure his wedding would be even more crowded. And no matter how crowded it would be, he would made it through the crowd to get to his fiancée, his long awaited for bride, his wife-to-be, his…

            Iris.

            He dragged his feet from the ground, one step after the other, like they were made of lead; the dwarves all around made way for him, and he could hear whispered words as he passed them by, murmurs of approval and of praise. He was a member of the Company, for them he was a kind of hero. Not that he would ever get used to it, but he could not ignore that maybe it was how she saw...

            Bilbo.

            That bright smile that lightened all his face and made her feel alive; how many times did she dream of that smile? It didn’t matter that it made some wrinkles show at the corner of his eyes, because he was smiling at _her_. She couldn’t stop to think that the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes are the cutest thing, and that smile wrinkles are amazing. He was unable to stop smiling as he came closer to...

            Iris.

            Fiery hair, fiery spirit, a death dancer with a pair of twin swords in her hands, shining under the sun. That was one of the memories of her that kept him alive since she went away to her birth-world. She was too far away, in the other side of the banquet hall, but there was no mistake. It was her. It was _his_ Iris, his precious…

            Bilbo.

            There were some wisps of gray in his curly hair, but then, what of it? She intended to see him turn completely gray running after half a dozen fauntlings, if she had her way. Dealing with pregnant women and newborns while studying to be a obstetric practitioner stirred in her the wish to grow a family with him, pushing away the fear she harboured for most of her life in behalf of losing her own mother hours after being born. One could not carry the tragedies of others for life. Not having found a man like him, who was completely enthralled by sight of...

            Iris.

            Bilbo never considered if there were real irises the colour of her hair, but he could only imagine her in her green gown as the slender stem of the beautiful flower that named her, his flower-maiden, his sweet scented flower-maiden. The memory of her resting on the grass in Beorn’s house haunted him, the scent of her skin under the sun was his reason to breath. And there she was, walking to him, all green satin embroidered with silver and green tourmaline. A flower and a jewel at the same time, too precious to be true. He could not imagine what she was thinking right then about…

            Bilbo.

            The right blend of courage and wisdom, of passion and cautiousness, maturity and foolhardy youth; what more could she dream of in life? A simple soul, Shire-folk, sure, but she could give up her technology based life to live with him, it didn’t matter, technology was a _comfort_ , not the meaning of _life_. Bilbo, on the other hand, meant everything to...

            Iris.

            They were so close now he could see the sky blue of her eyes, and her smile, her breathtaking smile, and she was all there for him, at last, the same glinting eyes, the same sprinkled freckles that decorated her nose and cheeks just to remind the world nothing was perfect, but even her freckles were perfect for him.

            “Bilbo…”

            “Iris…”

            He reached for her hands and could not ignore her watering eyes as she softly said.

            “I will kill you!”


	37. Aftermath

            Iris burst of laughter mixed with tears was all the dwarves needed to cheer and whoop all around them, rejoicing in their happiness of meeting again after a long and patient wait. Not always so patient, to say the truth, but as patient as they could manage it. As could be expected, any bit of patience still left disappeared instantly, and Bilbo held her tight in his arms as if she were the most precious of treasures, their mouths crashing in a passionate kiss that sent to Mordor any vestige of decency.

            When they finally had to break the kiss on behalf of breathing, it was as if the entire party attending the banquet had vanished for them, who had eyes and ears only for each other. She voiced a silly complain.

            “What took you so long? I’ve gone half mad when I found out you didn’t reach Erebor yet when we came through the Mirror Gate…”

            He tried to sound angry, but it simply wasn’t possible.

            “So long, _me_? It took you _twenty eight_ years to get ready for this party, do you remember?” Iris chuckled, feeling silly, because it was true. Her day-and-half in Erebor meant _nothing_ compared to what Bilbo had to wait on behalf of the time mismatch between their worlds. Bilbo played with her hair, twisting the red curls in his fingers. “Your hair has grown… it is even more beautiful than I remembered it…”

            Her giggle was as mischievous as he had engraved in his mind when she stroked his waist.

            “And you are a little more _comfortable_ here than I remembered it…”

            “I had no dragons to chase while you were away, nor orcs chasing me, by the way, so…”

            She went pale.

            “But… there _are_ orcs close by, and Ferumbras told me you were chased by _goblins_! Goblins, Bilbo, you know they _hate_ us!”

            He cupped her face I his palms, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, reassuring her.

            “Actually, they hate _you_ , Iris, more than they hate us hobbits in general, but it was just less than a dozen, a whole Mirkwood away from here, and they were defeated. Ferumbras being hit was a disaster, for sure, and I blame myself for this every day, but then, what more can come out of it? They would not be stupid enough to hunt us here in Erebor, would they? And we can always take a longer path to avoid them on our way back home if we have to. The wait is over, and you are going back home with me.”

            Realisation crashed on her.

            “Back _home_ …”

            Bilbo’s smile was sweet as cotton candy.

            “Yes, Iris, _home_ … Bag End, _our_ home…”

            She shook her head as the memories of everything she had read and watched about the future of that world were simply absent in her mind, but not things out of the past that could have been known by her by any chance. And he had told her lots about his home. _Their_ home.

            “A round green door…” His thumb caressed her temple as she spoke, enthralled by her closeness, the soft tone of her voice, half a smile in his lips. “A wooden bench to sit comfortably in the late afternoon and watch the grass grow under our feet… A large tree in the field… The sizzle of fresh fish frying on the stove…”

            “And even if there was no door, nor bench, nor tree and no fish… Iris Glory, daughter of Wolfram, I would be _home_ just because of you. Because I _call_ it home, but I don’t _feel_ it home. It will be home only when you are there with me, you, Iris, my _wife_ , my _precious_.”

            Something in his words sent her shivers down her spine, but she didn’t know if it was actually good or not. They had met only minutes before, it was not the time to discuss _any_ kind of thing. Her development from a naïve teenager to a young responsible woman had been hard enough, and she wanted to believe it was worth the struggle. Now she was there, with Bilbo, and they were just weeks from being wed, after years of distance. She would not tarnish their re-encounter with worries about the meaning of _words_. She had crossed _worlds_ because of him, words would have to wait.

            An unwanted yawn found its way to Iris’ mouth ad she muffled it behind a sheepish grin and a hand curled over her face.

            “You are tired. What kind of gentlehobbit am I, to have you here standing in the middle of the room instead of making you comfortable…”

            Iris grabbed his hair and made him look at her again instead of searching frantically for a vacant seat, as if there were much seated dwarves at all; most of them were dancing, or drinking, or both. Not only they could choose where to sit but they would have no problem to sit at the high table, being guests of honour.

            “Bilbo, there’s no place I could be more comfortable than by your side, no matter where. You rode all day, I am sure, you travelled for _months_ to be here, and you worry that _I_ am tired? Did you have dinner yet?” She didn’t wait for his answer and dragged him behind her to where she had been seated before with her family and begun to pile food on his plate, unaware of his mesmerized look that followed her every movement.

            “You…” His eyes danced from her face to his plate and back. “You remembered I like pork sided with potatoes and broccoli…”

            She finished making his plate with a flourish as she put the last detail into it and sat down by his side.

            “And a slice of chicken pie!”

            Bilbo could only embrace and kiss her again, food forgotten, thinking how lucky he was to have found someone who cared that much for him that she remembered his tastes.

            “After all this time… how did you…”

            “Who loves, cares. That simple.” Iris turned to her side to ask the passing bartender for red wine, which she served him after tasting it. “With a fruity bouquet, like the one you had in Rivendell that you praised so much.”

            He stopped with his fork midway to his mouth.

            “And then there were people who called me insane for waiting for you so long. Insane is to give up someone like you.”

            Iris giggled, delighted, and took some wine for herself. She was tired, for sure, but she would not give up any moment she could be close to Bilbo.

            Later, when Wolfram and Radagast finally made their way back to the banquet hall after staying for a while with Bombur and taking their time for the brown wizard to explain some things about their ‘ _job_ ’ to the green one, they found a pair of exhausted hobbits leaning on each other, oblivious to the surrounding noise, entwined hands and matching smiles on their sound asleep faces.

            Wolfram grinned, amused and sad at the same time. It would not be the first time he carried his youngest home after a night of feasting, but it had been more than a decade since it happened last time. Taking in a deep breath, the man disentangled his daughter from her betrothed, and brought the child-sized woman to his shoulder to carry her comfortably. He would be happy for her happiness, sure, but there was no denying that he would miss her at home.

            Walking slowly in the direction of a door he knew would lead him to the royal quarters, absently, he heard a known voice beside him.

            “Children grow, brother. As Rärc would put it, they grow wings and go build their own nests.”

            “Or shrink, in this case.” Heaving a sigh, he turned to his sister with a wry smile. “Reading minds again?”

            She shook her head with a wry smile of her own.

            “No… Some things are just obvious, you have the same face you had when I moved in with Marco.”

            “But at least I knew I would be able to see you once in a while. Five minutes on bike, any day of the week, not half a world on plane and a dive in dark waters once in four years, with luck.”

            Ellen rubbed his arm and ruffled Iris’ hair with care, so not to startle her younger niece.

            “I’ll watch over her, Wolf, you know. She will be fine”

            His face dropped, and the green stone in his staff darkened.

            “I know. You always did, since the first day.” He fingered a curl in his daughter’s hair, pursing his lips. “But then no, Iris will be hundreds of miles away from you, living her own life and having the chance to contact you only once in a while, and _me_ just once in a _fraction_ of a while…”

            “Stop being deterministic, you are talking about the Gates you know, and as far as I know no one in your beloved Nerd Net ever told you these are the only Gates from here to there, or from there to here, or from anywhere to everywhere. Be positivistic, we will be able to find other ways, if this is the case.”

            “If you are so sure about it, why didn’t you ever try to go back for a visit?”

            “Are you sure I didn’t?” Angry blue eyes flashed at him. “Do you know how much time I‘ve spent in that library searching for a clue, for a hint, for the slightest chance of finding a way through our worlds? Do you think I don’t miss you, the girls, the only family I have?”

            Wolfram looked down, feeling her anger hit him like a slap in the face.

            “Sorry, this was not fair. It’s just that… I’m just figuring out that the women I love are all being taken away from me, one by one. First it was Mom, then Ruby, then you, and now Iris… A selfish part of me wishes at least Lily will not leave me, at least not anytime soon.”

            Ellen rubbed his shoulder, gently.

            “I hope she will find someone to make her smile again. And I hope you will find, too.”

            “Don’t count on this. Maybe I have the heart of a dwarf, too, I loved once and then never more.”

            “Maybe.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Dwalin yawned and stretched his arms, confused as on where he was. It was not the first time he woke up in a strange bed, of course, but he had a feeling that something wrong happened. Then he looked beside him and was _sure_ something wrong happened.

            Moving as lightly as he could, he put on the boots he didn’t remember to have taken off and looked for his tunic. A bad smelling heap on the floor had a colour that almost matched it, but there was no chance that he would don it before a professional washing. He shook his head. Maybe just throwing it into the fire would be more effective.

            Making sure the sleeping elf was decently covered, he made for the door almost on tip toes, hoping Aredhel would be all right when she woke. For what he knew about hangovered elves, he took a mental note to ask the kitchen to send her a large jar of melon juice, honey and boldo tea. Taking a last look back he settled for a bag of ice, too, just in case. He opened the door with a crack, making his way to the living room.

            “What are you doing here?”

            If the voice wasn’t so soft, Dwalin could swear it was Thorin scowling at him, but the excess of height and the lack of growl made it clear it could only be an elf. Just what he didn’t need at that moment.

            “Good-day to you too, Legolas.”

            “What were you doing in Lady Aredhel’s bedroom? Why are you half naked and…” Legolas’ eyes grew wide as saucers when he looked inside said bedroom. “And what does it mean my aunt’s gown on the floor?”

            “Are you able to stop asking stupid questions, lad?”

            Legolas’ face turned to a strange shade of purple, which amused Dwalin.

            “Erebor’s hosting manners have sunk under its dungeons level if it is this way a guest is treated!”

            “You can be sure I did nothing that she didn’t ask for.”

            “How _dare_ you!”

            The dwarf smirked, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

            “Come on, she is old enough to make her own decisions, don’t ya think so?”

            “And you are old enough to pay for your disrespect!

            “And whom have I disrespected, pray?”

            The elf pointed to the door Dwalin just came out from.

            “You… you…”

            “You just stop screaming, please?” Both turned their heads to the soft voice coming from said door. “Ouch, my head! Can you just not speak so loud, would you, Lelly?”

            “ _Lelly_?”

            Dwalin couldn’t disguise his chuckle. Or didn’t even try to. Legolas tried his best to ignore him.

            “Lady Aredhel, this _dwarf_ just left your chambers and…”

            She came out of the room with only a sheet covering her body, bare feet showing under its hem and dishevelled hair barely concealing a naked shoulder.

            “Dwalin…” She turned her ink pool eyes on him, and a smile lifted a corner of her mouth. “What you’ve done to me this night was… everything I needed.”

            If it were possible for Legolas’ eyes to grow wider, they would; as it was, only his jaw fell close to the floor.

            “It was my _pleasure_ , Milady!”


	38. Thou Shalt be in Time

Wolfram woke up in the morning with the taste of old and wet umbrella handle in his mouth. The wine was of good quality, and he didn't drink that much after all, but as it blended with pork and heavy sauces, and a dose or two of something called Mountain Dew, his liver decided to play back somersaulting along with his stomach. He did not know which Vala to thank for the plumbing in his chambers to be closer to what he knew in XXI century than what he expected to find in the Third Age of Middle-Earth, but he was thankful nonetheless. Glóin had explained, the other day, that they were providing that kind of water supply and sewer systems for the entire kingdom, but it was a slow job because everything involved stone work, and it had to be made to endure. So it was that the wings and levels more densely inhabited, and the buildings in them that were more used, had priority, and places seldom used were left for later. He was glad he was in his sister's house instead of a regular guest house.

He headed for the dinning room still in his slippers, hoping to find water enough to quench his thirst and maybe some chamomile tea to calm his stomach. Kíli was at the table with the children, Kim in his lap merrily making a mess with her porridge, the other four making a cross-eyeing contest that made all of them laugh out loud and to spill food all over the table. The sight was so different from what he would expect at his sister's house that he could not keep from smiling.

His smile was cut short by Ellen's stunned cry.

"Wolfram Nydason, why are you still here? Don't you remember you have an appointment with Mister Radagast? Aren't you late?"

The man went pale, remembering what the brown wizard had spoken with him the day before.

"Holly alarm clock, Batman, of course I'm late! How could I _not_ be late with a hangover like this? And how in haven do I get to the Front Gate? Is it far? I must take my staff else I'll be beaten to a pulp again!"

Wolfram hurried back to his bedroom while Ellen asked one of the wards to accompany her brother to the Front Gate. He donned his boots and the green hat his professor had given him the day before, thinking it would be better not to forget any item he could imagine had relation with wizardry. With this in mind, he crossed the strap of his own canvas satchel on his shoulder and put another, almost identical but for the colour, his being moss green and the other a rosewood brown, folded inside of it. A simple leather tag had the words ' _Bag of Holding_ ' embroidered in it.

When he reached the living room that led to the outside, Ellen was already there with a water canteen and a couple of hurriedly made sandwiches for him to eat when he could. She handled him also a dark green topcoat reaching to his knees.

"What is it for, dear? It is not so cold yet."

"Not here, inside the Erebor." She humphed. "Just wait until you are amidst the trees, and I don't know where to Radagast intends to take you. If you go up the mountain, it can be pretty cold, be sure. Or where from do you think we get ice?"

He appreciated the fine craftmanship of the topcoat, its several inner pockets, a large belt he could use to fasten things (like the water canteen she just gave him), a tough but light fabric with discreet details in brown.

"So you have everything? Did you take an umbrella?"

"An umbrella? Ellen, no, _no_ , you _don't_ _mother_ me!"

She chuckled.

"All right. I'll provide a hot bath for when you come home."

Wolfram shook his head with care not to worsen the headache.

"I thought _I_ was the pessimistic one between us two."

"You are, I'm just the _realistic_ one. Now, off you go to your classes!"

ooo000ooo

Iris woke up soon after her father left, eager to see Bilbo and update all their conversations, and the whole bunch of Durin's heirs just _had to_ go along with her with every possible runaround, being the most convincing to show her the way. As she was told Bilbo and Company were hosted very near, and having seen how the children behaved the day before, she was almost willing to have them all along when Kíli and Dís offered to go along too. Dís had found in Bilbo a special friend in their way to Kíli's wedding, and Kíli was only happy to be close to his Little Sister as much as he could. For any important issue in the dealing of Erebor he could be summoned, but as much as he could, he would spend his time with foreign family.

Lily woke up a little later, having always been a late sleeper, and took gladly a mug of coffee Ellen just brewed. A slice of bread with cream and ham later, the elf sat beside her in a coach at the living room.

"Now that we are here only the two of us, Lily, tell me."

"Tell you what, Aunty?"

Lily smiled, trying to dismiss Ellen's attention by ignoring what she implied. But the her aunt's sight was deeper than the surface, even if very far from Elrond's abilities, not to mention Galadriel's.

"You can deceive your father and even your sister, but not me. If you want to vent out, I have two ears to hear and one mouth to keep quiet. And a pair of shoulders, too."

Ellen's open arms plus her piercing eyes where enough for the dwarf woman to break. Accepting her aunt's embrace, Lily cried hard, as she didn't for more than a year already. Unleashed tears washed her face, her sobs filling the space around them. It took a while for them to subside.

"They don't have to know... It is Iris' wedding, it is supposed to be a happy occasion..."

"Hush, hush, Lily dear, no one has to know anything at all, all right? But you must break the dam before it breaks _you_."

Lily looked up at her aunt, red eyed, feeling grateful for having someone to talk to, freely, one who could understand. Her father had lost his beloved one, too, but he was different, for one thing he was male, and for another she thought he didn't quite understand what it was to feel love the dwarven way; and by this, to understand the pain of loss like only a dwarf could. Ellen was dwarf enough, even if in an elven body, to understand her, and she had had her lot of loss before.

"I wish I could be happy. I mean, I'm happy for Iris, I'm happy to see you and Kíli so well with your kids, and the rest of the Company, but there is a sadness that I never got rid since... you know..."

"I know, dear."

"Why did it happen to us? Why have I been blessed with his love only to be denied of him?"

"There are answers we may never know, Lily; all we can do is to resign."

"No! I would, if I could, but I cannot!" She was angry now, her voice matching her anger. "It's like in Edna St. Vincent Millay poem: ' _I am_ not _resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground_.' I cannot, Ellen, the pain is too real, four years have passed but the pain is too fresh, and now that I'm here, in the Mountain we fought together to reclaim, it is almost as if I could see him anywhere, like if he would just enter this door and smile to me again..."

Ellen brought her close again, lending her shoulder for a fresh outburst of tears, hushing her as she did to Kíli so many times in the first years after the Battle. In addition to the losses of both brother and uncle, Kíli also felt guilty for having survived when they didn't, and she herself felt guilty too for having saved Kíli but not Fíli and Thorin. It took her years to internalize the rational knowledge that she could not have done anymore than she did, and Kíli's survivor was a miracle to be thanked to the Valar, all she'd done was to plead for him. She also realized that Lily's pain _was_ fresh, only four years was not a long time for a dwarf to grieve, while they had almost three decades to get used to Thorin and Fíli's absence.

"I remember there was a philosopher that stated that ' _that which does not kill us makes us stronger_.' We don't know Mahal's plans for us, maybe these hardships are meant for you to get stronger, Lily."

"I don't want to be _strong_ , I want to be _happy_! I miss Thorin so much, Ellen. We had so little time together, almost all the time struggling to reach Erebor, then to get rid of Smaug, and then the gold-sickness, and when he was quite himself again there came the Battle and he was gone, gone for ever! It was not fair, we didn't have any time of peace for us, to live our love in peace, to be one each other's at all, it was not fair..."

Tears threatened to flow again, but she took a deep breath and held herself, fingering a silver bead in a braid of her hair.

"You will be reunited, you know. When the time comes."

Lily shook her head and whispered.

"What if not? I know you mean he will be in the Halls of Waiting, and that our souls were intertwined by our Compromise, but what if I die in Earth and my soul goes wherever human souls of our world go when they disincarnate instead of going to the House of Mandos? And what if there is no afterlife at all and all this is just a fool's hope?"

"Then, Lily, you will have lived your life in hope instead of despair. This is more than many can claim."

An idea hit her. When Thorin died they had been so worried with Lily's grief that they thought it would be better for her if she left before the burial. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe an end was needed, a closing, so she could have the same peace they hoped Thorin had in his rest.

"Do you want to… visit… his _resting place_ …?"

She uplifted her head, startled.

"You mean, to see… his… _tomb_ …?"

Ellen just nodded.

"I don't know."

"Think about it. You were so in shock then, I don't know if you really had a chance to say… _good bye_."

"I… I will think."

"And you know… whenever you need…"

"I know."

ooo000ooo

After several minutes of observing the flow of people and commodities coming in and out of the Front Gate, with no trace of Radagast to be seen, Wolfram began to pace, uncomfortably. He had virtually ran from his sister's house to the Front Gate, with the ward at his side just yelling him where to turn, and now there he was, sweaty, already tired and waiting for Radagast like a nervous groom. Never more would he run because of a wizard, he swore to himself, calming his breath down at last.

It was when he allowed himself to enjoy the surroundings, admiring the evenly laid cobblestones, the giant statues that guarded the Front Gate, the beauty of the Running River waterfall, the sound of the wind in his ears, that he found out that waiting for Radagast was not that bad after all. He could see the tops of the higher buildings of Dale, glistening in the morning sun, and began to walk lazily on the road to have a better look east and west, where he could fancy fields of growing crops and sense the whispering of the trees.

Hey, wait.

Trees don't whisper.

But in the wind he could hear something, and it wasn't the rustle of the leaves. It was something else, and it was coming from the trees, he was sure. Ninety percent chance he was getting insane, but he could bet a tuna can he was hearing _the_ trees. Turning his back to the stone paved road, he attempted a step or two on the grass. It crackled under his feet, he could sense the blades bend under his weight, and it was weird, because he was one used to tending a garden, to walking barefoot, to hike, but this was completely _different_.

"This is not scientific!"

He mumbled to himself, frowning, and walked back to the road, resolute. He was there to wait for Radagast, not to fantasize on whispering trees and crap. Distracted with Dale in the horizon, he perceived the movement close to him in the last moment.

"Good morning!"

The sledge came to halt, rabbits looking around vividly, happy to be out of the mountain. Wolfram was in no mood for cuteness.

"What do you mean with good morning? Probably that it is a good morning, whether I want it or not!" Wolfram's temper was short when his innards were ailing and his head aching. "I've been waiting for you almost one hour, you are late!"

"A wizard is never late; nor is he early. He arrives _precisely_ when he means to." Radagast rolled his eyes and threw him an apple. "If you had taken your breakfast properly, you'd be arriving right now. But no, you had to run…"

Wolfram caught the apple and stuck it a pocket for later.

"It was _you_ who said we had no time to waste."

The brown wizard made the rabbits turn right, leaving the road and heading to the young forest nearby.

"To take a proper breakfast before an outing is not wasting time. But I can ramble for hours and you'll not be convinced, so, let our little stroll begin…"


	39. Findings

            After having her private talk with Ellen, Lily figured out with her some excuses to wander alone in the kingdom for a while, wanting to internalize what the gap of time between her own world and Middle-Earth meant in terms of Erebor’s rebuilding. After taking some things she wanted in her bedroom and strolling along several tunnels which she was fond of seeing free from rubbish, she found her way to the old treasure room, where she had earned her _dragon blinder_ title; but Lily didn’t enter the accursed place, rather heading left a long corridor that ended in a vast, many pillared, high domed hall.

            She bowed low at its entrance, and headed the long main corridor to the altar, where she took an incense stick from inside her vest and lightened it in the coals that burned there. Closing her eyes, she knelt in the empty temple, touching the stone with her forehead, spreading a hand on the floor whilst the other gently held the incense. In the few months she shared with Thorin, he made sure she was to know most of khuzdul culture, habits and religion, and she learned the offer of incense made for the fire within, the power of will Mahal forged inside every dwarf. The Maker knew how much power of will she had needed in recent years to overcome her grief.

            The feeling of the cold stone touching her head and hands was good, calming, like if the rock itself lent her its strength, the resilience of the metals that dwelt in its core, the hardness of the gems that adorned its flesh.

            Only when Lily raised her head from the stone floor she found out she wasn’t alone in the temple. A white haired dwarf stood some steps from her, a long beard with intricate patterns of braids woven all along it, looking at her with a tilted head and a half smile in his face. Lily made herself to stand up, finishing the rite, and bowed to him in respect for the elderly.

            “Lily, daughter of Wolfram, at your service, my good sire.”

            The old dwarf smiled at her, nodding lightly in response, a deep baritone voice answering her.

            “I thank you, little one. I know of your deeds. My children would not dwell in peace in this bountiful mountain if it weren’t for your service.”

            “It was nothing, sir. Anyone would do the same in my place.”

            She dismissed the praise, embarrassed; since they came from Earth several people had made ways to thank her and her family for their past deeds, but like her father and sister Lily felt it undeserved, mostly her father, who spent most of the Battle of the Five Armies unconscious. Her sister, her aunt and herself had had their own reasons to fight Smaug and to join the battle, but they had more connection to their commitment with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield than with the dwarven people in Ered Luin that they didn’t even know. Then Lily thought her words could be considered harsh, demanding that not every family in exile sent a representative to join the quest, and tried to amend, unwilling to insult an elder.

            “I’m glad your family is happy living here, sire, and it was an honour to fight beside King Thorin Oakenshield.”

            His smile made wrinkles spread in his face like spider webs, an amused twinkle in his sapphire blue eyes.

            “You’ve done more than fight along him, child. You brought him back from Gold Sickness, so the harpers sing. No realm can be healthy if its king is sick. You brought cure where none was known of.”

            Lily kept her eyes on the floor, not knowing what to answer. None but her close family knew exactly _how_ she had cured Thorin, and she was used to be evasive on the matter. The elderly dwarf continued.

            “You seem to be lacking a cure for your own wounds, though.” She looked up, startled by his perception, meeting his paternal gaze. “Be patient, loyal child. Mahal knows of your honourable deeds, and knows the wishes of your heart.”

            “I know I have to wait, sire; like I’m awaited for in the Halls of Mandos. But sometimes the waiting is so hard...”

            His calloused hand almost touched her face, a thumb gesturing as if it wanted to wipe a lone tear on her cheek in a way she almost recognized, but didn’t make out where from.

            “Keep the faith, child. Truly loved treasures have the gift to be found where and when you least expect them to be.”

            “Are you a priest, sire?” She asked, tentatively. “You speak like one.”

            “A priest?” He chuckled, a good humoured beam in his sapphire eyes. “No, child; just an old father who cares about his children, and about you no less than the others.”

            Her puzzled gaze made clear she was as confused as before, but the elder said nothing more, turning his back to her and getting down on his knees as if to pray. Lily bowed in the general direction of the altar and left the temple, feeling strangely light-hearted.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “This is not logic!”

            The greenhorn wizard mumbled under his breath once more, annoyed with the seemingly absurd tasks his master had bestowed on him before disappearing in the forest with his rabbits.

            “One does not simply… become a wizard by decree!”

            He flung another branch to the pile he intended to mound into a serviceable shelter, still wondering what in Valinor was the need to learn to camp outdoors using minimal resources, and what it had to do with being a wizard. As if to complete his misery, it began to rain.

            “Great!”

            Throwing his hands up to the air, giving up, he sat at the roots of the tree he intended to use as main pillar to his makeshift shelter, crossing his staff on his lap. Hugging his knees and leaning his chin on them, he observed the rain pour down beyond the brim of his cap, observing how the raindrops inclined according to the wind. Leaves fell from the trees, and small twigs, and here and there he could see a seed swirling down, those ones with thin papery wings that allowed them to fall far from the tree where it came from, as a means to spread the species wider. One of them fell at his feet.

            “Acer Pseudoplatanus.”

            Recognizing the seed gave him a feeling of comfort, that at least _something_ was in his range of knowledge, as if having the knowledge gave him control over the situation. He remembered the acer had a strong trunk, large leaves that could give a good shelter from a storm like that, and branches that reached low enough to be easily sat upon to rest even if one didn’t have the ability to climb a tree. The sycamore mapleseed absorbed the rain water and swelled, showing thin scratches on its surface, that in moments let show tiny pale lint like sprouts, one of which intruded into the earth and the other rose to the air.

            “Acers don’t grow so fast.”

            The sprout stopped short and weaved in the wind.

            “At least, not in my birthworld. Maybe it can be different in Middle-Earth.”

            Before Wolfram’s amazed look, the sprout seemed to reach a decision and began to grow again, draining the water around it and converting in to sap, in trunk and branch and root and leaf. The ground under his feet was dry now, and the maple’s branches had formed a pavilion above his head and a wall in direction the wind was coming, keeping the rain outside. Not even taking notice that he had stood up, Wolfram approached the acer’s trunk and touched it with a hand, whilst the other still held the staff.

            “You are… so beautiful! You… you are strong.” He looked up at the treetop. “I don’t know how you did it, but it was wonderful. I… I’ll never forget it.”

            The wind and the rain chose that moment to stop, and a merry sunshine dried the leaves to grant the wizard some warmth.

            “I don’t think I need any other kind of shelter!”

            Sitting on a low branch, he took a sandwich out of his satchel and ate with gusto, accompanied by some sips of water. The rustle of leaves announced Radagast’s return with his weird rabbit sledge.

            “So, I see you accomplished what you were told to! This is good!”

            Good-humoured Wolfram handled him a cheese sandwich.

            “You never told me to grow trees!”

            “No, I told you to make a shelter, and when you asked me how, I told you there were a lot of trees around. What did you assume you should do?”

            Wolfram side glanced at the pile of branches he had collected before the rain started, but said nothing. The brown wizard noticed his look and weaved the idea away.

            “I’m not here to teach you things a ranger could teach.”

            “Hey, but you didn’t teach me a thing! I learned it all alone!”

            “You have learned to learn alone, long time ago. It is your best way of learning. Why should I try to teach you in a different manner? It would be… anti-pedagogical.”

            For the first time, Wolfram smiled to Radagast.

            “It is a rarity to find a master who understands the learning method of the student and respects it. When it happens, and the student is willing to learn, the result can be astounding.”

            Radagast touched the sycamore maple’s trunk with a smile.

            “I this is a sample of the results you are to accomplish, my fellow, your learning path sounds to be astounding, I agree.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

            “Because you needed to find out the real nature of magic by yourself, of course.”

            “But… but this is not _magic_ , this is _botany accelerated_!”

            “If you prefer to call it so… Tell me, is it easier for you understand it this way?”

            “Well, yes, I think so.”

            “Then, it is _botany accelerated_ for you.” He munched on his sandwich with a satisfied face. “Ready for the next lesson?”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Following Ellen’s directions, Lily found her way from the Temple to the main halls, where she struggled to get past the wave of people who wandered here and there on their own businesses, and taking a grip on herself not to lose time in the market, as she was sure she would have chance to buy a trinket or two during her stay. Today, though, she had other priorities, and, taking in a deep breath, she headed for the place known as the Hall of the Kings, and from there to the crypt where the two of the line of Durin had been lain down to their last rest, in tombs carved out from the living stone. For half a second Lily wondered why Orcrist was not upon Thorin’s tomb, as she had been told it would be, but her grief was such that it really didn’t matter.

            A bright fire burnt in a pyre behind the tombs, and it was enough to lighten them and most of the hall, albeit the darkness was fitting to the place: a sombre hall for sombre feelings, like the ones that flooded her heart right then. Her fingers traced the runes engraved on the slab to her right.

            “Fíli son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, Crown Prince Under the Mountain.”

            Her eyes welled with tears as she remembered the good friend Fíli had been, how he was always willing to do whatever was needed to help his brother and to follow his uncle’s steps. The tuna can bet the day they first met, and many bets after that; his surprise and curiosity to what she and her relatives told about their world; his fierce fighting style, his witty remarks, his easy laughter… his glazed eyes when Kíli tried in vain to wake him from his mortal wound… his peaceful face when they were… _waiting_ … to be lain to rest…

            “You had so much yet to live, my dear brat… It was not fair…” Lily wiped a tear that insisted in trail down her cheek. “I’d give the whole hoard of Erebor just to hear you call me ‘ _aunty_ ’ again…”

            She turned to the other tomb, fighting the knot in her throat as she traced the runes with her fingers.

            “Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain.”

            It was too much for the young dwarf woman to hold back her tears, and her sobs wracked her body for a long time as the reality and definitivenessof her loss hit her with full force. She had come back from her world to Middle-Earth, to Erebor, knowing it would not be the same, that not even the friends she had made would be the same, not even her aunt, albeit being an elf, would be the same she left behind four years before. Four years for her, twenty eight for all of them, time enough to marry and grow children, time enough to rebuild a kingdom, to grow a forest, to lead a life, to leave the pain behind. But her pain was still there, still fresh and throbbing, red and angry as an infected wound.

            “Thorin…”

            The name uttered amidst her pain brought more tears to the surface, and she gripped the stone slab until her knuckles went withe, as if she could make the stone understand her pain and send her beloved one back to her.

            “I’ll never… I’ll _never_ give you up!”

            The memory of their good moments overflowed her with a warm feeling, with the certainty that her waiting was not in vain; that his rare smile would be seen again, his sapphire blue eyes would smile at her again, his rough hands would touch her body like none else had been able, and his mouth would claim hers and make her feel loved and whole again.

            Having regained some peace again, Lily rose to her feet and found the small token she had brought with her in a pocket of her coat. Heaving a sight, she delivered the white chalcedony lily she had been gifted the day they entered Erebor.

            “If… if it is true that you have returned to the stone, Thorin, know that my love for you is written in the stone of my heart.” Lily traced the delicate petals of the carved flower. “And not even death can change this.”

            Her tears fell freely from her face to the stone slab, and unto the white stone flower she delivered as an offering, making it shine even whiter, and showing the grain of the stone beneath its smoothness, as if they were magnifying glasses. The stone submitted itself to the water of her tears, of her soul, and gave back its true nature, its real appearance for her to see.

            “Everything you fought for had been accomplished; your people is well tended, well-off; the younglings are cared for, the adults have plenty of opportunities, and the elderly are respected and cherished for their experience and wisdom; Thorin, my love, everything you planned and dreamt of has been fulfilled, your hopes for the people of Durin have come true.”

            Lily lowered her head until her brow touched the stone.

            “The price, though, has been too high; I know, I know, you would scold me for thinking so, but you know, you always knew, I’d give a damn for the kingdom if I only could have you back. Do you remember, my love, how we both gave a damn to protocol when gold sickness took you?”

            A bitter smile crossed her lips.

            “I’d make love to you again, and again and again, if I only could have you by my side once more, Thorin, my love.” 

Uplifting her body with her arms, Lily looked straight to the stone slab with the runes carved on it.

            “I suppose this should be a good-bye; but I can’t say it, Thorin, I can’t; how can I say goodbye to you if you are always here, inside of me?

            She rubbed her hands on the stone slab and faced it as if it were a human being (or a dwarf being, by the way).

            “I know, I always knew, an end would come someday; I just didn’t expect it to come so soon for us; you deserved so much more Thorin, you deserved a long life plenty of joy… but not all that is deserved happens, isn’t it so?” A stubborn tear rolled down her cheek. “You are there alone, I am here alone, and for what? But then, if our souls are intertwined, does it mean a part of me is there with you? I don’t know. But I know I feel you so close to me, like if I could reach you if I just run the next corner fast enough, or if I turn my head fast enough. I can feel you, Thorin, and I know we will meet again.”

            Lily leant down on the stone slab and touched it with her forehead again.

            “Thank you my love; for giving me this peace. Now I know I’ll be able to wait for you.”

            Sitting up, she let herself slide down from the tomb, and headed for the door that would lead her out of the crypt. The light of the pyre sent wavering shadows in front of her, but her soul felt freer, lighter, like if her tears had washed down her pain, and left only a bearable sadness instead of despair, and the seed of a hope.

Lily was almost stepping out the porch when she heard a ‘ _clink_ ’.

            Turning back as fast as she could, only the tip of a black lock was to be seen disappearing behind Thorin’s tomb. Atop of it, though, Orcrist lay in its place, spreading flickering glimmers around.

            Tiptoeing her way back, Lily came close to the tombs, her eyes not leaving them for a moment, so she wouldn’t miss anything strange around them. Thanking the Maker for her boots being light weighed and her gown of a practical design, allowing her free movements, she reached the tomb to the left and with a quick movement rolled her body over it, reaching the other side ready to tackle down any maculating intruder to that sanctuary where she found peace after years of grief.

            Being caught by surprise, said intruder held back a shriek as he found himself restraint on the floor, too scared to try to struggle himself out of Lily’s grip. Watching her eyes widen like saucers just inches from his face as she recognized him, the rascal managed to stutter in his defense.

            “P-please d-don’t tell A-adad, he will get mad at me!”

            Lily’s voice was of pure stupefaction.

            “Thorin?”


	40. An Interesting Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first scene happened in that morning, before Ellen had that talk with Lily and she went to visit the temple and the crypt.

            The royal family and earthly visitors was in the corridor leading to one of the guest wings when a shirtless Dwalin passed by them with an amused look in his face. Having seen him leave the banquet hall accompanied by the blond elf the night before, Kíli just winked at him with a knowing smile, to what the warrior answered with a hand gesture that the kids didn’t know yet, only for Kíli and Dís to muffle their laughter. The angry shouts in high elvish coming from a nearby guest room didn’t make anything clear, but then Gwendolin and a wobbling Ferumbras came out of those chambers with Tauriel in their wake, with a look of ‘ _include_ _me out of it_ ’ in their faces.

            “What, in Durin’s name…”

            Dís started to ask, but Tauriel answered before the question was completed.

            “Legolas and Lady Aredhel are having a slight disagreement on what a proper behavior means, and it seems his highly sexist upbringing is being tumbled over by her arguments.”

            “Oh.”

            “If this is a _slight_ disagreement, I don’t want to be close to them when they have a _serious_ disagreement, then.”

            “Don’t worry, Gwendolin, Legolas uses to be sensible most of the time, except when he is stupid.”

            The human rolled her eyes.

            “That’s a relief!”

            Knocking on a door to their left, Kíli invited them.

            “We’re paying a visit to our hobbit guests, would you like to join?”

            “Sure! Anything that keeps us away from Aredhel’s anger is a welcome treat!”

            “And I was going to join them anyway, after all they’re my family!”

A very smiling Bilbo opened the door and forgot how to speak when he put his eyes on Iris. She wore a dress that could be deemed as simple at first glance, but richly embroidered in the same shade as the fabric, its colour matching her eyes, and her smile was enough to lighten the whole place.

“Did someone ever tell you it is improper to stare? If you persist in this behaviour to my Little Sister, Master Burglar, I’ll be tempted to send you to the dungeons!”

“What…?”

            Seemingly only then becoming aware of the presence of other people, Bilbo shook his head as if awaking from a dream.

            “Kíli! Goodness, how long are you standing here? Come in, please, we are having our second breakfast, would you join us?”

            Soon the entire party was exchanging news about what who had done what in the absence of the others, amidst plates full of sausages, scrambled eggs, seed cakes, cheese, scones, fruit compote and so on, to the point Kíli felt he was back in Bag End an age ago with the whole Company, with his brother at his side. The memory of Fíli carrying an ale barrel with him to Bilbo’s dining room made a knot to form in his throat, but he swallowed hard and put on his best party face to be along with Bilbo’s fellows, while helping his mother to bullfight his brood, overly excited by the amount of new people around.

            “Fíli, stop poking Lyn, you know she hates it!”

            “But she is kicking me under the table!”

            “No, I’m not!”

“Are too!”

“All right, one on each corner of the table, now!”

            The hobbit lasses surrounded Iris, eager to get to know her.

            “Miss Iris, Bilbo spoke so much about you we were completely curious to know you!”

            “And I am sure we will be good friends, Uncle Bilbo is our favourite, he could never choose someone who would not be as cool as him!”

            Iris was feeling warm inside by the good acceptance she was receiving form Bilbo’s cousins, letting her know life in Hobbiton would not be like a complete exile from her world, but more like moving into a different neighbourhood, with kind people who would accept her as she was.

            “Beryl, no need to call me miss, lady or the like, please, Bilbo had me embarrassed enough with this kind of courtesy when we met, I’m not ready to undergo all this formality again!”

            The hobbit girls laughed.

            “Yes, Bilbo told us something about it, but see, we just met, we would not like to make you feel disrespected in the first day you get to really know your groom’s family.”

            “I’m sorry about yester night, I was so tired I think I just dozed off while talking with Bilbo.”

            “It is yet to be seen if it was you who dozed off while talking to him or if it was him who dozed off while talking to you.”

            “Drogo, quit being snappish!”

            “Yes, Milady.”

            Primula made the introduction.

            “Iris, this is Drogo, he is Bilbo’s second cousin, they share the same great-grandfather.”

            Drogo made his gentleman scene, jumping up and bowing low in front of the hobbit lass.

            “Drogo son of Fosco, at your service!”

            Iris made her best to act according to what she knew about hobbit habits, but failed into curtseying, bowing instead.

            “Iris daughter of Wolfram, at yours and your family’s!”

            Beryl was quick into stepping in front of her and helping her up.

            “You are wonderful, just let me and Prim kidnap you for a while to clarify some subtleties of the Shire, would you?”

            “I would love to!” Confused Iris stated, then blinked, confused. “Ok, what did I mess this time?”

            The girls laughed heartedly.

            “Nothing exactly wrong, as Uncle Bilbo told us you are a warrior, but if you want to keep yourself safe from Lobelia’s gossip, we’re better introduce you to some subtleties.”

            “Ouch, come on!” Iris showed them her cupped hand. “Look here at my wrinkles of worry about Lobelia’s opinion on me!”

            Drogo was not that at easy with Lobelia’s opinion, seemingly. Iris stressed he was a bit older than Bilbo was when she knew him, and as a Baggins, possibly worried about other’s opinions on being respectable and never doing anything unexpected.

            “She can turn your life into a Mordor if you give her the chance. Any flaw will be pointed out as a grave omen of terrible things to come, and a reason for you to be ostracized. No fun at all.”

            “And who would ostracize me, Drogo? You? Any of Bilbo’s real friends?” Several heads shook their disagreement with the idea of ostracizing the newcomer hobbit lass. “Then, why should I care? Oh, come on, I have been the problem-child for most of my life, I know how to deal with bullies.”

            “You don’t know Lobelia.”

            “And Lobelia doesn’t know _me_.”

            Perceiving the new acquisition to Bag End was bound to be really interesting, Beryl tried to change subject, even if only to make her relax a bit and let them know more about how she was out of battle mode _on_.

            “One thing I know for sure: Lobelia will envy this gown of yours. She is absolutely nuts about quality made handicraft, and will pester you on how it was made.”

            Iris smiled wickedly.

            “Then she will pester me for ages and never get an answer, because I bought it just like I bought all the clothes I brought!”

            “What? You don’t sew?”

            “You don’t embroider?”

            “Of course not! Why should I?” Noticing her new friends at a loss of words, Iris scratched her head and faced them with new eyes. “Ok, understood. I don’t know how much Bilbo told you about my world, but then, things work kind of… _different_. It is not that expensive to buy clothes instead of spin the thread and weave the fabric and sew the clothes. Some of these things are made by… machines… and…”

            “And there is the whole fashion industry at work. Of course there’ll always be haute couture, luxury wear, hand made, tailored clothes, but people would not be able to wear clothes at all in our world if it weren’t for mass production and off the rack clothing.” Several pairs of eyes landed on the strange woman, who winced and tried to shrink herself into the nothingness of her chair and carrot cake. “Ah, uhm, sorry, it’s just that I, ah…”

            “You’re the woman from London my aunt told about?” Curiously, Iris curiosity didn’t bother the blonde. “That will be fun, I never thought I’d find someone from my world here beside my family!”

            Gwendolin fidgeted, forgetting the carrot cake on the table.

            “Ah, well, sorry, you see, I’m not from London, I was just _heading_ there when I had, ah, hmm, problems…” Looking around and seeing those people didn’t look at her as she had made some great mistake, the blond continued. “I am from San Diego, California.”

            Iris’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘ _o_ ’.

            “No. No! No, you can’t, are you telling me you are really from _San Diego_? The _home_ of Comic Con? No, no, no, no, I can’t believe it, do you imagine how many times I dreamt of being in San Diego Comic Con? And you simply _live_ there?”

            “Ah, well, I, hmm…”

            “That’s alright. Don’t worry about explaining. If I would go back there I’d ask you for help to go to Comic Con any year, but no, I’ll be staying here, and my sister isn’t really in the mood for anything related to joy lately. I don’t know if you know, she was about to marry but her betrothed died, and she is, well, not quite over it yet, and knowing how stubborn she can be, I don’t know if she will _ever_ be over it, if you take my meaning.”

            Sensing there was someone who was really out from her world, which meant she was not completely insane in believing there was more than one world to take on account, Gwendolin breathed more easily that she had for weeks.

            “I… I think I understand.”

            Beryl used her curiosity and initiative to step into the newcomer’s converse.

            “You were talking about ways to make clothes in your world; do you think it would work here?”

            “Work here, _where_?”

            “Here, _here_ , in Erebor.”

            “Ah, hmm, see, I don’t know how fabric is made here, even if I can explain the concept of a loom or of a sewing machine, what I mostly do is to design clothes and sew them, or make them to be sewn. To compose an entire clothes manufactory would be…”

            “But, if given the fabric, you are able to make a gown? A fancy gown for a party?”

            “Ah, yes, of course, Lady Primula, but…” Primula and Beryl high-fived, obviously influenced by Bilbo’s learning of Iris’ world habits, and made a happy dance around their chairs. The human woman turned to Iris. “What did I say wrong?”

            Iris laughed, having grasped what was in her new relatives’ minds.

            “Nothing wrong, Gwen; it is just that they lost all their gear, clothes and whatever in an avalanche whilst traveling here. My wedding is not far, and my aunt promised there will be a three day party, so…”

            “You want… you would want me to sew some clothes? For the party?”

            The woman looked a little amazed, and it was misunderstood.

            “Sorry, Gwendolin, we didn’t mean…” Primula excused herself and Beryl led on.

“What we mean is, we were thinking about what we would do, I’m sure we can find good seamstresses here in Erebor or even Dale, we just got excited by the coincidence that you are a seamstress yourself, but you are a guest of honour from Iris’ world, we would never offend you by asking you to work for us…”

            “Offend? I’m not offended, I’m thrilled!” Her smile showed it. “I would love to draw some medieval costumes, or do you prefer a more recent style? Rococo, Empire, Vitorian? I like Edwardian, do you think it will be fitting?”

            Iris was laughing at Gwendolin’s enthusiasm.

            “I don’t know the difference between a gown and a dress, so, it must be you who will show us what you have in mind.”

            “Do you make man’s clothes, too?” Drogo asked.

            “I do. I can make any outfit you can imagine! That’s my work!”

            Their interaction was interrupted by another burst of energy from the children, which begun with Frérin laughing on the floor and Knee shouting.

            “That’s not right and that’s not fair!”

            “But its… its funny!” Frérin laughed even more at Knee’s grumbling.

            “No, _Fré_ , _Kee_ made _p’etty_ , not funny!”

            “What’s the matter now?”

            “Adad, Kim knotted my hair while I was eating, Frérin saw and said nothing!”

            “No knot, _p’etty p’etty b’aids_!”

            Kim was really upset by her careful handiwork be misunderstood as knots, Frérin rolled on the floor laughing and Knee fumed.

            “Knee, your sister is a child…”

            “It doesn’t give her the right to…”

            “Nor does it give you the right to explode like you just did.”

            “But Da!”

            “Thorin, you must learn to control your temper.”

            “But, but…”

            “No buts. Go take a walk to calm yourself.”

            “Yes, Grandma…”

 

ooo000ooo

 

“Thorin, son of Kíli, what are you doing here?”

The boy winced under his cousin’s angry voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean… Please, don’t tell Adad, he will punish me with removing rust from a whole hoard of old weapons, or even worse!”

Divided between anger and amusement by the lad’s current predicament, Lily found place to ask.

“What could possibly be worse?”

Knee grimaced and turned his face away from her.

“I don’t know, but he can make me go dust the library again and…” A violent sneeze made him shudder. “And this time I would not even have Frérin’s company! Please, don’t tell him!”

Letting go her forearms from his throat and allowing him to breath, Lily sat up on his belly, still keeping him her prisoner with his wrists cuffed in her hands.

“This is yet to be seen; why shouldn’t I tell Kíli of your misbehaving? What were you doing here? And what…” The thought hit her, unsettling. “What did you hear?”

He brought his pleading puppy eyes to her, making Lily to smile internally at his resemblance to his father.

“I was…”

And his voice became an incomprehensiblebabble.

“What did you say? I can’t hear you, please speak so I can understand you.”

With a pained sigh, Knee said again, lowering his gaze.

“I was playing with Orcrist.”

“Playing? You were _playing_ with Orcrist? With _Orcrist_?” Something burnt inside of her. “Don’t you know this is a place of homage and deference? Don’t you know _who_ lies here...”

“Of course I know! Who do you take me for?” Lily could feel his indignation as legitimate as hers. “Do you think I don’t care for Uncle and Granduncle? That I don’t know about his deeds, that there would not be Durin’s folk as we know it if it weren’t for him?” Knee tried to worm his way out of Lily’s grasp. “I may be young, but I’m not a fool, and I know which part my Granduncle played in my people’s history.”

“And even so you came here to _play_ with his sword!”

Knee lowered his eyes once more.

“I… Please, cousin Lily, please don’t tell my father, I…”

“You _what_?”

“He will deem me immature and childish if you tell him…”

Taking pity on his ever apologizing tone, Lily let his wrists go and just watched his face

“Tell him what?”

“That you saw me here...and that I was _playing_ …”

His repentant look was almost convincing her, but not yet. She stood up and looked down at the contrite dwelfling.

“And why should I not? Give me but _one_ good reason and I may consider.”

Knee stood up too, squaring his shoulders, trying to look taller and more mature than he was.

“It is not meant to be disrespectful in any way, it never has. I love Granduncle’s stories, I… I want so much to be like him, brave, courageous, a leader to the people of Durin. Sometimes…” He looked down and rubbed his forehead, hiding his face. “Sometimes, when I want to be alone, to think, you know, or when I’m upset… Sometimes I come here and I pretend… I pretend I’m Thorin Oakenshield and will free Erebor from the Smaug and bring peace and wealth to my people.” The lad heaved a sigh. “I know, I know it is silly, that I’m not a child anymore to keep playing like this, but…”

Lily touched his cheek gently, making him look up at her.

“Thorin…” The boy looked up at her, lips tight in a line. “Thorin, this is no shame. You chose someone worthy to be a role model, someone you can be proud to say ‘ _hey, that’s the dwarf I mirror myself in_ ’; do you think your father doesn’t try to be like Thorin Oakenshield, too? He was like a father to Kíli and Fíli, you know.”

“I know.” He nodded. “It’s just… Adad will deem me too childish if he knows I come here and _play_ with Orcrist.”

“Considering the amount of pranks your father and your uncle played on the whole Company along the journey to retake Erebor, he is by far the last person allowed to say anything about childishness.” The boy eyed her warily. “And me and Iris too, by the way.” That made him suppress a chuckle. “And your mother was no better, to say the least!”

“Really?”

“Really! Did someone ever tell you about when she stuffed Bofur’s pipe with oregano?”

“No!” Knee’s chin fell just a little.

            Perceiving the lad was more at easy and that he really meant no harm, Lily had relaxed too, and now was amusing herself in his company. They left the crypt together and spent some good hours strolling inside the mountain and chatting at ease, Knee showing her places they had no time to visit the other day and Lily telling him stories of the Company’s Journey that were fresher in her mind than in anyone’s else.


	41. The Bertiasij

It had been almost a week since the banquet and things were almost settled after the outburst of novelty of the coming of so many and different people to Erebor. For instance, the Sun-Cheng leader was enthralled with the forges, as they scarcely had any metal in the lands they lived; his sea and land hunting lieutenants exchanged techniques with Dwalin and his crew, as a weapon is always a weapon, no matter at what you aim it; and both the shaman and his apprentice son spent long hours discussing wizardry with Radagst when Wolfram was not in training.

Said Wolfram spend as much time as possible along with his family, as he would go back to Earth with Lily in a few weeks and wanted to quench his present longing for his sister and future longing for his younger daughter.

Said younger daughter, with the help of her older sister, was being kept half crazy with the preparations for the wedding, thorn between being with her husband-to-be who she hadn’t seen for years and her family that would go back to Earth along with Gwendolin.

Said Gwendolin had her hands full with several sets of party clothes, even if Dís provided her with the help of some of the best seamstresses she knew, although they themselves were with their hands full with orders for Durin’s Day festival and the wedding too. She was fascinated by the different fabrics she had at her disposition and that golden and silver thread were _actually_ gold and silver, not to mention the gems and crystals. She didn’t have much knowledge about precious stones, but she guesses rightly that a couple of them were more valuable than her entire apartment. So, the young human turned herself in two, working until late most of the days; after all, she was to design and perform clothes for ten hobbits, five elves and a man, even if Estel insisted that she shouldn’t bother and that he would find something in Dale, as they were more used to human measures.

Said Estel gave up and let her take his measures when she pointed out that she was human too, and would not have problems with measures because that was her job. Even so, Aredhel made sure Gwendolin kept her daily training at least for some hours, least her ability to attract trouble would make her an easy target. The human could feel the blond elf had changed, something alive had stirred inside of her, and Gwendolin felt less guilty about Nellas’ death; as soon as she internalized this, her lessons turned from a torment into a pleasant occasion where she could learn more from Aredhel.

Said Aredhel was seemingly having a lot of fun confusing her nephew, as Legolas was being kept in the dark about what really happened between she and Dwalin after the banquet, and Gwendolin was helping Tauriel into listing words to name Legolas’ stupidity.

Said Legolas and Tauriel were also exchanging news and plans with Elladan and Elrohir, as the crash of the weather device in the Cold Fells could affect both their lands. Culuin offered as much information as he had from those lands, but Figwit had been scouting closer to Imladris for the past couple of centuries and couldn’t contribute much, and spent more time with the halflings who had been in his charge for so long.

Said halflings were enjoying the chance to know everything about Erebor and Dale, and if it were up to Beryl and Primula they would need a caravan to bring back to the Shire everything they saw that made their eyes glint. Ferumbras still had his limp, and often chose to stay back in Erebor when the others made their outings, and Kíli made sure he would be at the royal dwelling and he would not lack anything he wished. As to rest his leg was what he felt more in need, he was spending a lot of time in Ellen’s little garden in a high balcony, where Leri used to make the younger children play in the mornings, so they would get a little sun as Ellen insisted every elf and dwelf needed.

Said younger children simply adored the quiet elf and the hobbit who had a gift of telling stories, and Shire stories were outlandish and unusual for them, albeit they found it strange that there was almost no mention to battles and fights, but they made them laugh lots. Laughter they had also when they were allowed to an outing with Beorn to the surroundings.

Said Beorn chose to stay out of the mountain, explaining he had not good memories of being under earth, and came in seldom. It was found out that he spent long time wandering in the skirts of the mountain and visiting the inhabitants of Raven Hill.

Said inhabitants of Raven Hill were quite fond of him after they found out the black squirrel that used to be perched on his broad shoulder would not attack their hoards of glittering objects, beads and coins and gems and buttons, and settled for hoarding nuts for himself.

And so life bore one in the mighty kingdom of Erebor until three days from Durin’s Day and Bilbo’s wedding.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Kíli was liking to know his brother-in-law better, and his way of thinking explained mountains about his own wife, which he deemed quite weird sometimes. But now they were talking about the recent orc raids and what they were doing about it, as it could interfere in the coming Durin’s Day and Iris’ wedding.

            They chat beside the fire, drinking their ales while Ellen and the girls quenched their longing for news from each other, and the kids played along close by. Wolfram made use of his first lessons with Radagast and was sending Kíli’s smoke rings away to decorate the mantelpiece over the hearth. Frérin was currently playing the dragon for Fíli and Kim to overthrow him, and Knee was teaching Lyn to play chess.

            “No, you cannot move the Knight this way. It moves like this, see?”

            “But Knee, horses _don’t_ move this way! How can the Knight move this awkwardly if horses don’t do it?”

            “It is only in the game, _Lee_. It is not like they move this way in real world, it is only in the game.”

            “Aye. So, I’ll move the _Priest_.”

            “The name is _Bishop_.”

            “Cousin Lily explained it is a kind of priest, can’t I call it priest?”

            “Hmm.” He stroked the beard he didn’t have yet. “I guess you can. No sense to call it a thing we don’t have here.”

            With the younglings’ talk as an ambient sound, Kíli explained to the Earthling.

            “The problem, Wolfram, is that their behavior is not making sense for what we know about orcs. We had several attacks as aftermath to the Battle of Five Armies, and then later we had normal raids, as we had in Ered Luin from time to time, mostly when there is a harsher winter and supplies run low.”

            “What can be considered ‘ _normal_ ’ in a raid”?

            “They simply plunder, steal what they want, kill whoever stands in their path, enslave whomever has the bad luck of not getting killed, and burn things down.”

            “It’s a predictable pattern, then.”

            “Exactly. But the last years’ raids don’t follow the pattern, and they are increasing even if the weather has been mild, which should mean plenty of food even for them, as hunters that they are.”

            “Has it happened any time before? Maybe records in the library…”

            “Ori has been working on the library in the last twenty-five years and has not found much on this matter, yet. Only the pattern of raids in hunger times, which we knew already.”

            “And they being arranged in camps with different flags looks almost as if they were gathering in teams. It’s weird.”

            “They can be as weird as they want, as long as I can know what they are planning so I can protect my people.”

            The chess board became silent of a sudden as Knee blinked his bright blue eyes.

            “Uncle?”

            “Yes, little one? Any help with the chess game?”

            “Not at all; but, Uncle, you said the orcs are gathering in _teams_?”

            “Well, so it seems, for what the ravens told us; you were there, you heard it be told.” Wolfram noticed his nephew’s face getting pale. “Why?”

            “Aye, I heard they were gathered in _camps_ , I just didn’t understand it could mean _teams_. It changes everything.”

            “What are you talking about, lad? What does it change?”

            Kíli asked his son, frowning at his worried face. The youngling bit his lips, visibly uncomfortable with what he was thinking.

            “Adad… I’m… I’m not sure, but I think… I think I know what the orcs are about.” He turned to his siblings and interrupted their game, in which Frérin was currently tackled down by Fíli and receiving a tickle attack from Kim. “ _Fré_ , go to our room and bring the book. I want to show Da something.”

            “What… what book?” The boy managed to ask amidst a laughter attack.

            Knee rolled his eyes at his oblivious brother, already standing up and running for the corridor, shouting over his shoulder.

            “Forget it, I’m going myself. Tell Father about the Bertiasij and what we found out about orcs!”

            The adults observed the boy running away with a stunned look, and then back at the defeated dragon that two mighty warriors had taken down.

            “What is a _Bertiasij_?”

            Being abandoned by her chess teacher, Lyn overtook the chore of making war with her younger siblings while Frérin managed to stand up and approach his father and uncle.

            “I dare you warriors to defeat _me_ , the elven lady of the golden forest!”

            With this said warriors begun to chase her around the room while the defeated dragon recomposed himself and perched on a stool.

            “We found a book in the library that is written in Mother’s scribbling, and…”

            “You mean, her world’s script?”

            “Aye. It tells about a lot of animals and we found it interesting, so we burrowed it…”

            “You registered it in Ori’s control book, I hope.”

            “Hoped right, Adad. Then, we were curious, because it told about animals and plants we never heard of before, and explained about peoples, too. It’s very funny what it says about us dwarves, and even more what it says about elves. But then we found about orcs, too. It was quite scary.” In the last phrase his voice became very low, and he searched around to be sure the younger ones weren’t at earshot. “Did you know why you’ll never see a sick orc?” Slight headshakes confirmed what he supposed. “Because when one of them gets sick, they kill it… and eat it!”

            Frérin’s disgusted face was shared by the adults, and Kíli beckoned his son to him. Albeit trying his best to be grown up, the boy had not even begun to grow a beard, and at his age of twenty-one he was really to be considered little more than a child. His elder comforting arms around him were more than welcome.

            “Easy, lad. We will find out what is happening and defeat them, I promise.” But to himself he thought, and not for the first time. ‘ _How I wish I had Uncle and Fee with me; they would know what to do_.’

            “Here, Father!” Knee prompted into the room with a large tome in one hand and his mother in the other, dragging behind Lily, Iris and Dís in different states of hairdressing, each one looking more confused than the other. “The _Bertiasij_.”

            Not having given much attention to Ellen’s world alphabet, deeming it would not be that useful in his daily tasks and considering that he could always count on her, Kíli looked at the leather bound book and couldn’t read the only word that stood on its cover. So, he handled it to Wolfram, sure he would be enlightened.

            “So, this is the book.” The wizard looked at his nephews with sympathy. “It is really easy to mistake the handwriting of ‘r’ and ‘s’ and a ‘y’ for ‘i’ and ‘j’, mostly considering your own script uses lots of double dots atop of the letters, just like umlauts but without its vowel changing characteristic, more like the so-called ‘metal umlauts’ that are solely decorative, but unlike the Tengwar writing, where these double dots have the meaning of a vowel by themselves and…”

            “Daddy…”

            “Which reminds me, Lily, of when you were learning to write your name, and you kept double dotting your ‘y’ because you thought if beautiful, do you remember?”

            “No, but it makes sense…”

            “So, it is crystal clear that what we have in hands is a very precious and uncommon…”

            Ellen cut off her brother’s rambling.

            “Bestiary.” She leaned close to her brother. “A bestiary written by someone out of our world, or at least meant to be read by someone out of our world.”

            Wolfram opened the book respectfully, looking for more information in the first pages.

            “As I suspected, it was written by our dear fellow the Tomb Stone writer. He wrote there that he was a naturalist and that he spent some time, or he _was about_ to spend some time, I don’t remember the right declination in Klingon, studying Arda’s flora and fauna, and this must be the result of his study.” The wizard’s voice became a mumble barely understandable, reminding the Erebor dwellers of what they were used to with Radagast. Definitely, a champion to Yavanna… “If this book stayed here it can be an evidence that he didn’t make back to Earth, but it is only a supposition, and…”

            “Wolfram?”

            “Ouch, sorry, Kíli, I was just talking to myself. Where were we?”

            “The boys found out something about orcs in this book…”

            “Yes, that’s it! The book is a bestiary and it delves on a lot of fauna and flora, including several percipient species. I believe it is ordered in alphabetical order, so, if we want information about orcs…”

            The man browsed the book deftly until he came to the entry ‘orc’, and handled it to his sister. Making sure the younger ones were not that close, or at least not paying attention, Ellen begun to read in the passionless ‘report voice’ she had developed to use while working with passionless (or far too passionate, mostly) director boards. This is what she read:

 

            “ _Orc. Mammal._

_Environment: Mountains and hilly sides where they can find caves or caverns to dwell and hide their females to breed. Intolerant to day light, they become weak and slow when under light._

_Size: Subspecies range from five feet (Snaga) to seven feet (Black Uruk from Mordor)._

_Life expectancy: Unknown, but suspected to be as long as the race from whom they were produced by Melkor, which means, they don’t die unless they are killed (No evidence found, only_ _suppositional_ _)._

_Eating habits:_ _Orcs have nasty eating habits, eating anything they can find, from vegetable and grain to meat and carrion. They prefer meat, when available, usually hunted, as they have no ability to cattle. Due to their Melkorish bred nature, they are fond of men flesh, although they may eat elves and dwarves alike; also, they are cannibals, eating their dead ones and killing their sick and disabled._

_Reproductive habits: They are fast to breed and take only ten years to reach adulthood and start to breed another generation. They usually litter two or three, but only one survives, being the weaker ones eaten by the stronger. It explains most of the scars they wear, and they wear their scars as a proud exposing of their ability to survive._

_Social organization: Orcs are helpless without a strong leader, but when ordered they can be fierce soldiers and are able to organize themselves in military fashion. The leaders prove themselves with their acts of slaughter and violence, and, when they grow in numbers, new lesser leaders are chosen by their value in attacking other races, but eventually they fight amongst their own. The increase in raid episodes in a given region uses to mean increase in population, leading to more attacks. When on urging need of new leaders, they may even make contests, dividing themselves in teams, and the winning teams make up the new army divisions’ leaders. When it happens the king, general or main leader who will choose the winning team verifies their results before the raided villages or settlements are burnt to acknowledge the constituted army_.”

            The elf closed the book and looked around. The astounded eyes she met mirrored her own. Dís was the first one to find her voice, quickly followed by Kíli’s statement as comprehension downed on them all.

            “Durin’s beard…”

            “These are not ordinary raids. They are breeding an army!”


	42. The Wedding

“Lily, help me! I can’t find my garland, I _know_ it was right here, I can’t find it!”

“Easy, Iris, easy, don’t panic! It is a silk flowers garland, isn’t it? It won’t shrivel while we look for it, then.”

The hobbit lass humphed.

            “You tell me not to panic because it is _my_ wedding, not yours!” Seeing her sister take in a deep breath, Iris immediately regretted what she said, and reached her hand to touch Lily’s face. “Sorry, Sis, I didn’t mean…”

            Lily shook her head.

            “No, it is all right, Iris. It is _your_ day, don’t let my scars mar what is meant to be your day of joy.” She looked at a dresser at a corner of their rooms and saw something interesting on it. “Here, why don’t you wear this? I don’t know who put this here, but it is only fitting.”

            Iris took the strange garland and looked at it critically.

            “I think it will do. Autumn leaves, really, it fits.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The bride was gorgeous in her white gown studded with shining gems, a garland of autumn leaves crowning her head while also holding in place a very light veil, that concealed her face nonetheless. The green wizard at her side smiled like a fool while conducing her to the wide white tent in the middle of the recently harvested wheat camp, its golden straw adding to the glamour of the neatly arranged party place amidst small patches of trees, close to the skirts of the mountain. All around, smaller tents provided shadow for the guests, and there were a lot of guests indeed, of every race of the free peoples of Middle-Earth.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “Easy, lads, you must take very good care of it!”

            Renik and Toran, two dwarves from the logistics crew, guided some carts to where it was planned, designing a wide circle around the party field.

            “No problem, Master Bofur, they will be positioned so they will be easy to reach by anyone coming from the party and any guest will be able to get whatever they want from them.”

“Thank you, Renik, we count on you and your team to take care of these issues. You know this matter has its relevance.”

“More than many can imagine, sir!”

Toran’s smile was one of who didn’t know what he was really about, and Bofur noticed it.

“Possibly more than you yourself can imagine, lad!”

The young dwarf lowered his head, perceiving his own näivity.

            “Ahm, I’m sorry, Master Bofur, it is just that…”

            “All right, I know it is your first time in an event of this magnitude. Just don’t let it numb your mind, and keep your eyes and ears sharp. You may be needed at any time, you know.”

            Renik affectionately whacked Toran’s head and smiled at Bofur.

            “We will be ready.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

All around the ceremonial area, several carts and chariots waited to take the guests back to the mountain, where the cooks were taking care of the upcoming banquet, to be held in the main feasting hall, after the all the chattering usual in this kind of thing. It would not be a dwarvish wedding, of course, but Radagast could be quite verbose when he had his mind set to it, and none expected him to be succinct in this occasion.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Kíli observed the feathers being attached to the wooden shafts and smiled. He was not one to care too much about decoration, but his incursions on carving gave him an aesthetic sense that allowed him to evaluate what he saw as a beautiful result on an improvised solution.

            “I like it.” Ellen smiled at his side. “But they could be more colourful, I deem.”

            “But there are the ribbons to add colour.”

            “Ah, yes. Bilbo and his relatives are working hard on what they want to do with the ribbons. I thought it would be only ordinary ribbons, but it looks more like bandages, by its size.”

            The young dwarf king ruffled her hair affectionately, his smile reaching his eyes.

            “Our little fellows have a surprise or two in their pockets, be sure.”

            “That I am, Kíli, that I am…”

            He was about to kiss her lightly when a huge raven landed on his shoulder.

            “Hmm, working on a new hatch? It is not even spring yet!”

            Kíli heaved a sigh and Ellen shook her head.

            “Rärc, we don’t need to be planning a child to show we love each other.”

            “Crrr. You walkers do things with too much antecedence.”

            “Why don’t you go chase mice?”

            “No, thank you, chasing cookies is more fun. Besides, I have larger game in sight.”

            “The bridecake will make you bloat for an entire week, you old crazy bird.”

            “I’m sure it will be worth it, old pal.”

            “All right, lads, let us go now. Rärc, is Crîk coming too?”

            “Crîk and Tärk and most of Raven Hill. We may be a little late, though, but you can count on us for when the fun begins.”

            “Hmm. Be late and we will see who has fun.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

The royal family and members of the Company were close to the front, where some large vessels held feather decorated stems, in the absence of flowers due to the season. The hobbits lined themselves in a semi-circle and held bright coloured ribbons in their hands, to be used in the ceremony. The sun shone bright in the early morning, and a high flying bird crossed the sky like a good omen.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “Drogo, I’m nervous!”

            The dark haired hobbit cupped Primula’s face and kissed the point of her nose.

            “You are not even the bride, my lovely flower! How nervous will you be when it is our time?”

            She rested her brow on his shoulder.

            “It is not like this. It is just that… you see, I never did this!”

            Drogo caressed her curly hair and whispered in her ear.

            “It is just a ribbon you have to pull, nothing more. You will be surrounded by caring people, me included, it will be all right with you. But, if you think it is too much, you can always choose to stay inside the mountain. As soon as it is over, I’ll be back to you, I promise.”

            “To stay behind? No, Drogo, I didn’t travel all the way from the Shire to be afraid of holding a simple ribbon.” Primula took half a step behind and put her hands on his shoulders, gazing intently into his eyes. “I didn’t almost freeze in the Misty Mountains snow and almost drown in the Long Lake waters to come here and leave Uncle Bilbo in the lurch.”

            He smiled proudly at her courage outburst.

            “My fiercy daughter of Mirabella Took!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

Bilbo’s escort from Rivendel, albeit being in the same honor position as his fellows from the first Journey, placed themselves a little further around the convergence point of the event, simply because their height would disturb the view of the remaining guests, most of them dwarves, obviously. Culuin, being a distant relative to her, stood close to Aredhel, and along them, Legolas, Tauriel and Gwendolin stood to the right, and Elladan, Elrohir, Estel, and Figwit to the left, along with Arwen, who arrived just the previous night in the company of two elves and a group of rangers as her escort. Haldir and Elenarion accompanied her since Lórien, leaving the blessed land in secrecy, and the rough human escort met them just beyond the borders of the golden forest, as planned. Now the rangers made a strange side dish to the party, albeit having changed from their road weathered clothes to some at least clean, if not fine ones. They were not ones to purposefully embarrass anyone, and stood at the back of the large groups of guests.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “Is it your first time in an occasion like this?”

            The silver-haired elf asked Gwendolin, gently.

            “No. Hmm, yes. I mean, I’ve attended weddings in the place I come from, but never something like… like this.” The blond woman gestured the crowd around with a subtle weave of her hand, and then fingered the ring on the chain around her neck. “It makes me nervous, I think I really don’t know what I’m doing here.”

            “You could have stayed in Erebor, I presume, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

            “I think I could, but then, no, I could not. Lady Aredhel has come, she has been so… you know… since her wife’s death… I worry about her, and she taught me so much, it would not be right to stay behind. And then there is Ferumbras, with his limp and all and he is here, it would be selfish of me to hide inside the mountain when everything is happening here outside.”

            “Yes, Nellas’ death was a hard blow on all of us. We have been friends since… never mind, a couple of years ago, when I moved to Rivendell and found out she was dating my fourth degree cousin.”

            “A couple of years ago? But Aredhel told me she and Nellas were together since… shortly after the War of the Last Alliance? Wasn’t is something like… a long, long time ago?”

            Culuin chuckled.

            “Indeed, from a mortal point of view. But never mind, for us a season blends into the next and so do the years and the decades and the centuries. That’s why Aredhel’s care for you surprises me.”

            “Pardon me?”

            “It’s not that we have an unending life that we don’t have feelings for those who surround us. When we befriend a mortal, we have their short life span to enjoy this friendship, and all the rest of our lives to miss the deceased ones. Our longing endures our entire life after our short-lived friends leave us. Most of us elves just avoid to befriend mortals so we don’t have to suffer this longing.”

            “This is sad.” Gwendolin shook her head. “It is like not to grow a garden because the flowers will eventually fade.”

            “It might be.” Culuin sent the distance a sad look. “But flowers don’t laugh and cry with you, flowers don’t share dreams and hopes, flowers don’t…”

            Gwendolin noticed his heavy intake of breath and touched his arm with her fingers.

            “Never mind. I will not be your friend if you don’t want me to.”

            Culuin sent her an apologizing half smile.

            “Thank you.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “Yes,I can smell it too.”

            The bear of a man murmured to the black squirrel that nibbled at his ear.

            “No, I won’t.”

            The squirrel ran over his head and perched itself on the other shoulder.

            “You can go, if you wish.” Then send him a grim glance. “Coward.”

            Soft touches of the squirrel paws in his dreadlocks made Beorn look at his fellow again.

            “No, I didn’t marry either, but it doesn’t bother me.”

            Some scratches on his wool tunic made him to take the squirrel by the scruff and make it to face him.

            “Now, little fellow, you’ve trespassed borders you shouldn’t!”

            A pair of little paws in the air and pleading black bead eyes melt his bear heart.

            “All right. But now shut up before Radagast turns you into a… never mind.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Somewhat apart from the middle of the crowd, not very comfortable with large gatherings of people, stood Beorn in his human form, having conceded even into using trousers under his long wool tunic. His shoulder long hair was groomed like thin ropes that resembled dreadlocks, but neatly trimmed and adorned with small wood beads that resembled tiny hazelnuts, on which his black squirrel fellow tried to nibble.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “Are you sure you should be here, Father? Your…”

            King Bard sent a dark look at his son.

            “I have seen this band of dwarves and aggregates come out of the blue like a lot of drowned rats and shoo a dragon from their mountain like it were a drunken bat. Those two halflings have shown more courage than I have seen in many a man during my life. I would not miss this happening for their weight in gold.”

            Bain chuckled.

            “You’ve never given a damn for gold, Father. People had to almost constrain you to accept Dale’s crown.”

            “And I can’t wait the moment to give it up to you, lad.”

            “Father! Don’t say such a thing!”

            It was Bard’s turn to chuckle.

            “Times are changing, and with times, some certainties. It is not written on stone that a king of Dale must die to give up his crown to his heir, if the heir is ready for kingship.”

            Knowing some physic weaknesses that assaulted his father in later years, Bain held his elbow inconspicuously and caringly.

           “I will never be ready if it depends on me taking your place.”

            “No one is really ready, ever. When you have the chance, talk to others who have had to take on duties that others deem as important, or glamorous, or simply necessary. No one is ever ready. Not the prince to be king, nor the lieutenant to be general, nor the lesser to be boss. It is need who makes one ready. When the need arises, you _are_ ready.”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The Sun-Cheng delegation watched with curiosity, too, and Tsui Wei Xiu nodded in acknowledgement to the grey haired man who came from the nearby human town the day before, and who now stood tall with a richly crafted helm set with green and white gems as if it were a crown. Beside him a man in the full force of his best years, his face resembling the older one so much it was impossible to mistake him for anything but his son. Some other men accompanied them, either with the sigil of a black arrow over a bell or of a hooked fish under an oar (1). Tsui had met King Bard the Bowman in the previous week, but not the Master of Lake-Town yet, and looked forward to have a word or two with him. Every fisher was a friend in potential for a people who depended heavily on seafood.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The groom was visibly nervous on all the happening, wiggling his toes and changing his weight from one foot to the other, his hands unresolved on either be at his back or to have his thumbs stuck in the little pockets of his waistcoat. Bilbo loosened his ascot twice while waiting for Iris to reach her place beside him, and then tightened it again as she came closer, only to feel himself choky and loosening it again. Radagast held his staff high and everybody silenced, waiting for his words of blessing on the hobbits to-be-wed. When he had everybody’s attention, he lowered his staff and begun to speak.

            “Dear fellows, friends and family, most respected kings and princes and dignitaries, lords and nobles and warriors…” He rolled his eyes from one side to the other and sent a wink to Dwalin, who had his back to Aredhel. “Specially warriors…” Balin chuckled and Dwalin facepalmed. “We are gatheredhere to accomplish what has been planned long ago. Or not that long, depending on the point of view. Even if it is natural that not every soul knows its part in the Song of Eru, everybody knows there _is_ a part. Most times, not foreseen or even expected. These two halflings here before us are the proof that even paths that were not planned can lead to a good outcome. They are a proof that even the smaller being, the most unprepared soul, can perform changes, can leave his or her mark in the world around.” His dark blue eyes scrutinized the assembly, making sure the other hobbits got the clue, and turned back to the couple in front of him. “Long have you waited for your wedding; are you ready for what is to come now?”

            Bilbo held Iris hand in his and a glance in her direction was met by her radiant smile.

            “If she is, I am.”

            “This… this is very good indeed.” Radagast’s eyes turned to the distance and he heaved a sigh. “Because the time has come.”

            From somewhere in the closer skirts of the mountain, a drum sounded. Several others answered from the nearby tree outcrops. The party area was surrounded by orcs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) I’m sorry but I couldn’t find nor figure out better sigils for Dale and Lake-Town; any better ideas are welcome, I have no pains in changing this description into something more fitting.  
> While you are hanged in the cliff hanger, would you mind to review? I would love to hear from you!


	43. The Battle of the Wheat Fields

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phrases in [brackets] are in Sun-Cheng speech.

            The orc drums sounded high and disturbingly close, surrounding the wheat fields in all directions. A raven screeched in the sky, as if any more warning was needed, and flew in the direction of the Mountain, avoiding orc arrows that weren’t there to fly, but better safe than sorry.

 

ooo000ooo

 

“You stay here with the halflings.”

            “No, I won’t! You trained me, I must do something, I can watch your back!”

            Aredhle rolled her eyes.

            “You attract trouble, you stay here!”

            It was Gwendolin’s turn to roll her eyes.

            “If I attract trouble, then it’s better if I stay away from people who are not _that_ fighters, ok?”

            The elf shook her head.

            “You don’t know what it is to fight an orc! You’ve never seen battle!”

            “And I’m sure I’d be better off if I never saw one, but it is right here in front of me, isn’t it?”

            “Child, they’ll try to _kill_ you, _for real_ , do you understand? It is not training, you cannot have mercy and keep yourself from dealing a fatal blow. And by fatal blow, I mean _fatal blow_ , not caressing one’s skin with your blade!”

            Gwendolin’s shoulders dropped along with her eyes.

            “You are right. But then, why have I been training all this time if I cannot even help you?”

            “The best help you can give me is to stay here, safe, so I don’t have to worry about you. And use your sewing abilities to mend anyone who gets hurt in the battle. And keep one eye on the halflings, they fight even less than you.”

            “Ok.” The human mumbled, feeling defeated before the battle even begun.

            “And keep yourself alive!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Iris and Lily had quickly removed the outer skirts Gwendolin had produced as a last time adjustment for their pseudo-party clothes, as well as for herself, the elven warriors who came with her from Mirkwood plus Dís and Ellen. Bilbo’s female cousins were supposed to stay close to the main tent and, so, out of the way and out of danger, and Gwen had only shortened their skirts a little, according to their request, enough to get out of the way but not enough to be indecent in the hobbits’ point of view. Lily grabbed her bow from the decorative vessel and sought for a good spot to shoot, while Iris got her twin swords and joined the fray, much to Bilbo’s dismay, who would prefer her to stay hidden in the mountain along with the children and the non-fighting dwarrowdams. Obviously, his preferences were completely ignored not only by Iris but by all his hobbit fellows, even Primula and Beryl; or, _especially_ by Primula and Beryl…

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The first wave of orcs sprang out of the closer groves, brandishing scimitars and other foul weapons, aiming what they thought to be heedless carters and coachman; their thought was utterly wrong, and the not-carters-at-all were quick in taking their own weapons from under the covers on the carts and began the defense.

 

ooo000ooo

 

“I’m sure I sent you no invitation for this wedding, you, you…” Ellen was fighting for words along with fighting with her swords. “…gatecrasher party pooper!”

 _Locënehtar_ was doing a great job in slaying orcs, even if its name meant Dragonslayer instead of Orcslayer. The providential absence of a dragon left it free to do the dirty job of detaching orcs’ limbs and heads from their bodies, and it always reminded her of Thorin’s lessons in Imladris’ training fields. ‘ _Kill the dummies!_ ’, his deep baritone voice echoed in the ear of her mind.

“No sense of propriety at all, that’s what I say!” Dís had just crashed her axe in an orc’s chest and was retrieving it to deal more damage to the intruders. “I really wish I could overrun one of their own parties just for them to know how it is to feel… invaded like this!”

The elf stuck her long sword through an upcoming orc’s throat and kicked it to the ground.

“I don’t believe they have any kind of party at all, Mom! If they had, they would have more sense of humor than to hack and slash other people like they do!”

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The second wave of orcs was met by the archers close to the main tent, who grabbed their bows from the same vessels where their quivers and spare arrows had been hidden, showing only its feathered tips; soon Kíli, Lily, Bard and Bain and most of the elves were shooting like fire, felling the orcs in reach.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            The hobbits didn’t stay idle, and at the preset raven screech pulled the ribbons in their hands that were attached to chains in the pillars of the tents, releasing down huge packs of weaponry at each pole. Each hobbit ran to one of the poles and helped to handle spears and swords and mostly axes to the attending guests, by the way the finery of Erebor’s army. The rangers didn’t bother in taking weapons from the packs, as their clean-but-rough outfit was enough to conceal their usual weapons while they waited.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            A small band of orcs who decided on a retreat found out the tree groves they had just left were impossible to wander into again, having their paths crisscrossed by lianas and every kind of bindweed imaginable. Wrongly guessing it was some kind of elf magic, they completely ignored the tall human clad in dark green who stood under the main tent with a staff in his left hand, its green stone shining an eery glow, his right hand raised and tracing in the air the directions his greenery was to take. Looking at his placid face, one could believe he was actually enjoying it.

Sitting cross legged close to Wolfram was the Sun-Cheng shaman, Wang Wu Chao, many trinkets staff held still in his up facing palms, an inaudible hum vibrating from his chest. His son and respective dog stood behind him, a pair of daggers and powerful fangs ready to be used if anyone got too close to the pair of wizards. Chao Li Baako was learning not only to deal with what his people called magic, but also to keep an entranced person alive in the middle of a fray. His eyes were watchful in all directions and rested in no spot, unless he deemed it could be an oncoming threat. He blinked once when the hunting and fishing lieutenants passed by him following Tsui’s lead, and it was all. He was confident of his brother-in-law’s ability to fight any battle, even if the sight of orcs was scaring for the teenager. His people were strong and proud, and would not fall under the hand of a server of the darkness.

 

ooo000ooo

 

“We must stopmeeting like this.” The contralto voice close to his ear made Estel smile. He had gone out of arrows and was not willing to go back for more, and wielded his sword deftly and deadly.

“It is always a pleasure to see Hadhafang shining in your hands, Lady Evenstar.”

“The charmer in the fighter.” Arwen pierced her sword through an orc’s chest and moved around to find one more. Estel ducked in time for her blow to miss his throat and behead an orc instead.

“I’d fight the very armies of Mordor to be with you.”

“Be careful of what you promise, the Valar can make it come true.”

Working as one being, as both learned with the same good and old half-elven lord, the pair cleansed a patch of orcs with no much more than a scratch in his arm and some wheat straw in her hair. Stopping for a moment to regain their breath, they found place for a smile.

“Watch out!”

Estel’s cry was enough for Arwen to move into the action, and soon both of them were on the fray again.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Bifur crawled down the rocky hilly side behind the group of orcs that held the dirty blue flag. It was obvious they were supposed to make yet another surprise attack, taking advantage of the current fray to bounce into the camp with fresh forces with the intention of unbalancing the battle to their favor again. A gesture of his hand signaled some fellows to move, and they moved as silently as his gesture had been; a nod of his salient nose set another group into action, and a change in his stance made another bunch of dwarves to move forward. An orc’s axe head in his head was not a light burden to carry, and only his cousins knew what he had been through in the first years of his new condition, right after the Battle of Azanulbizar. But it was past now, as were the sided looks he received from so many people who didn’t understand the changes he underwent from his disability didn’t change who he was in his heart, in his soul.

            A movement from his fingers and his fellows attacked.

            The orcs under the blue flag never knew what hit them, not did the other orc teams know why the expected reinforcement never reached the wheat field. Their deaths were silent as their attackers, and the mountain skirts were the only witness of the lethality of the Silent Army.

 

ooo000ooo

 

Legolas fell down under an unexpected attacker and rolled to his left to skip it and put himself up on his feet. Tauriel ministered his attacker a deathly blow with one of her hunting knives and in the same movement held his wrist to help him up. To his surprise, another pair of hands took his other wrist and pushed him up by the back, allowing him to get into the fight again with no loss of time at all.

“Master Gimli?”

The nest of red hair and short beard didn’t leave any doubt.

“At your service! Not that I’m sure you deserve it, though.”

The elf laughed and put his hunting knives at work.

“Nor am I sure it your father deserved to be set free from my father’s dungeons, dwarf!”

Barely noticing if Tauriel was in sight, Gilmi gestured at his own predicament.

“I’ll show your father what he deserves, if I get the chance, elf!”

An axe and a hunting knife struggled to take down the same orc.

“This one counts as my kill!”

“I have kills enough in my back to send you to the kindergarten, Gimli!”

“Nah! Past glories don’t move the mills, Lelly!”

The elf humphed.

“Did this Mordor damned word reach even you?”

The dwarf giggled and they battled on.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            Tsui led his two fellows into the fray along with Balin and Dwalin, impressed on how much damage was possible to deal with just a pair of axes, and on how the shorter dwarf was quick and lethal with his sword-mace despite his evident old age.

[“Chang, the left spear-man!”]

            Tsui ordered his fellows in their own tongue, as both of them were quite useless in language issues, as if to compensate for their skill in fight. The hunter set his golden eyes to his prey and stocked hard the huge orc while skipping its own blow. His brother went for the same bunch of orcs, his hooked spear having been sharpened so the hook would only deal more damage but be easy to retrieve even if it trespassed a body.

            Dwalin made a mental note to develop something like that for Erebor’s army and defended a blow from the right, hewing down an arm in the process, black blood spilling all over him.

            “Durin’s beard, other party tunic ruined!”

            “Since when do you worry about the state of your clothes, brother?”

            “Since our sister lectures me about how much work is lost every time I ruin something!”

            Sham, the Sun-Cheng with the hooked spear, dealt a blow just above Balin’s height, making black blood to squish on the elderly dwarf’s white hair.

            “What a mess!”

            [“You’re welcome!”]

            The stranger’s smile was as impossible to translate as his words, and they battled on.

 

ooo000ooo

 

            “Pal, where did you learn to shoot like this?”

            Beryl was astounded by her brother’s skill, as she knew he used a bow but not what that meant.

            “In the same Shire we all live, sister!” The string swished beside his ear as another arrow left it to land in an orc’s chest and he turned to face her. “Or how do you think I use to bring game home? Whistling?”

            Paladin nocked another arrow and chose a target.

            “I always believed you were at it for the killing of time, not for the actual hunting.”

            “The world is full of surprises, isn’t it?”

            Gwendolin passed them by helping a complaining black haired dwarf to sit down where the healing stuff was kept.

            “I don’t need your help to walk, human, I just need a bandage on this cut!”

            “I am sure, mister, but master Óin will have my liver if I don’t do what he told me to.”

            Ferumbras cut the warrior’s sleeve out with a pair of scissors and exposed the angry gash in the dwarf’s forearm.

            “Goodness, am I really seeing a bone here?”

            Primula was quick in putting a clean cloth on it to lessen the bleeding while Óin took out a flask of an antiseptic potion.

            “Here, Gwendolin, wash it thoroughly ere, Gwendolin

while I prepare his stitches.”

            Another warrior had been dragged under the main tent and Lily left her bow to help with the first aids. The hobbits were full of good will but most of them had to avert their eyes from the worse wounds if they were not to faint, or at least to throw up. Obviously, the notoriously stubborn dwarves only conceded into going to the healing tent when the wound was bad enough for them not to ignore it, and so it was that most of Bilbo’s relatives were being close to useless in the battle after having handled the weapons to who knew what to do with them.

            The exception was left to Ferdinand Took, Saradoc and Merimac Brandibuck, curiously enough the younger ones of the hobbit lot. Prone to trouble as they were, it had not been unusual for the three of them to mend their own bruises and smaller wounds among themselves, so their elders would not know the depth of the mischiefs they had been in. Not quite knowing how it happened, they soon were helping Óin with the wounded ones, even if sometimes it was two of them holding a dwarf down while the third bind the injure, as, like with Gwendolin, the strangers were not quite trusted by the warriors, be they friends of the royalty or not.

            A desperate move from the orcs, who perceived their cause was lost, rippled the surface of the battle, and their fight for escape was fiercer that their dream of glory on an unprepared group of feasting dwarves. It was to be reckoned that they had some capable leaders, and they tried to trace a flight route. Unfortunately, the recently acquired knowledge on dealing with magic didn’t include knowledge in strategy, and Wolfram closed with every kind of bush and weed all the escape routes the orcs might have used. When she perceived what happened, all Ellen could do was to frown and scold, as she was too far from the main tent to make him stop.

            “You fool of a green wizard! You didn’t allow them an escape route, they’ll fight with all they can!”

            Yet, numbers were on Erebor’s side, and the result of the battle was well defined. Not defined, though, were the losses it would take, as it soon would be seen.

            From his place behind the shaman, Chao helplessly saw as Chang was overthrown by a large number of orcs who chose him as a meaningful target, because of the amount of them that the stranger was taking down. Unable to hold himself, to stay in his post albeit what he saw, the youngster ran away from his father with his dog at his heels, daggers ready to take down anyone who dared to stay between him and the master hunter of his people. Sham was right beside Chao when he reached Chang, eyes wide in despair as he took the broken body of his brother from the blood soaked ground and cried out his name.

            [“Bring him back, Sham, I give you cover!”]

            [“Too late, it is too late, my brother, my brother…”]

            Liao Wang growled to an orc who still breathed and Chao gestured him to finish it. The black blood staining the silvery fur of the huge canine was something to make one shiver.

            But what the young shaman apprentice didn’t consider was what his actions would cause in the sequence of having left his post. Sensing the sudden absence of a guardian, Wang’s self-preservation instincts made him to break his trance, and the bubble of protection he was holding around the main tent came down as a castle of cards.

            [“Chao, my chid, what have you done…?”]

            As it was not a visible of physical barrier that kept the main tent out of the reach of the orcs, it’s absence was not perceived immediately; but whatever it was that made the orcs to feel it was not interesting to get close to that place, it was gone, and their desperate urge to escape made them to try even the way that could be considered the centre of the enemies’ forces. It was not a large group, but half a dozen Melkor bred creatures broke into the tents area.

            “You get out of my sight, you ugly big _thing_!”

            Primula’s good aim with a stone stunned an orc and Óin’s staff finished it. Drogo looked at his girlfriend in awe.

            “How did you do this?”

            “How do you get crows away from your corn?” Primula stated, matter-of-factly, and grabbed another stone, just to be prepared. Drogo added this to his long list of things that made him feel proud of her and gathered more stones for her to throw.

            Ferumbras was so scared by the sight of the upcoming orcs that he didn’t even think; the scissors he used to cut away cloth were the same he used to pierce through skin and flesh of a grey skinned orc who approached an unconscious elderly ranger whose ribs had been severely crushed; the struggle of the man to breath reminded him of his own struggle when he was poisoned, and he would not allow anyone to mess with the debilitated man. But scissors in the hands of a Halfling were not enough to keep from doing a mess an orc who had training and experience in warfare, who was there to gain respect from his boss and maybe even the captainship of a host of orcs. He fought back.

            Perceiving the grey skin was not getting further from him, but closer, even with black blood pouring from the double piercings he had provided, Ferumbras desperately used his cane to push the creature away from him; when the hobbit thought it was really the final moment for him, the foul breath of the orc was cut short by a sharp blade running across its throat. As the orc’s body fell down detached from it body, and Ferubras stumbled backwards, the man on the ground recovered a bit of consciousness, but it didn’t make much sense, as he looked up at Gwendolin and her blood-dripping blade and murmured, before fading out again.

            “Marcia?”

            Unable to figure out what to do with that name, the human woman turned around to see what more she could do. As Aredhel had ordained her, she kept an eye on the halflings, but between Óin, Wang ad Paladin, there was not much she believed she could do better than any of them. The hobbit was better with a bow, but hunting knives had good use in his hands, and the shaman had a thin sword hidden inside his staff than pierced and made a huge bleeding damage when used; Óin wielded his staff with the same energy he always did, which meant, broken bones were not an exception. The few orcs who entered the main tent area were done for.

            In the meanwhile, Sham reached the tent with the corpse of Chang in his arms and a crying Chao at his side, clutching his breast plate as if holding it would keep him in this world. Liao Wang sniffled the bodies of the orcs and made to scratch dirt over them, but the wheat straw prevented the dog from its intention. Wang looked at his heartbroken son with grief in his eyes and a sense of responsibility greater than good sense could allow.

            [“Son, what have you done?”]

            The youngster tried to speak amidst his sobs.

            [“Father, it was Chang! It was _Chang_!”]

            [“Chao, it could have been anyone of us! You _cannot_ run away from your duty!]

            [“But, Father…”]

            The slap in his face was cruel, to say the least.

            [“You do _not_ leave my protection, Chao! You don’t know what…”]

            [“But if I had saved his life? Father, it was _Chang_! He’s our Master Hunter, he is… our _friend_ …”]

            Wang held a lock of his son’s curly hair I his hand, a pout of worry in his lips.

            [“Would it pay the price? Do you _know_ the price?”]

            The youngster lowered his gaze, averting it from his father’s.

            [“Does it matter, Father? It was… it was _Chang_ …”]

            Sham at their side seemed to ignore any philosophic aspect of the occurrence and just cried his lungs out over the broken body of his brother. But then he grabbed Chao’s wrist in an outburst of agony and brought the young shaman apprentice to his side, beside his brother’s corpse, ignoring the spiritual leader of their people.

            [“Thank you!”]

            [“Don’t thank me, I didn’t save him!”]

            [“But you tried.”]

            [“It was not enough, I…”]

            The teenager’s voice faltered and his knees gave way under his weight; only then the scarlet wave of blood that slowly found its way under Chao’s breast plate was to be seen by the others, and panic showed in his father’s voice.

            “Chao! Healers, where is a healer?”

            Gwendolin was at their side in no moment at all, and helped Wang to ease the boy down on the ground.

            “This breast plate if hewn, he must have taken a mighty blow to sever it this way! Why didn’t he tell us he was hurt?”

            All remaining colour left Wang’s face.

            “He could not. It… it could be his death…”

            The human woman thought it only obvious that not telling such a thing could be one’s death, but ignored it and used her blade to cut Chao’s clothes away to allow access to the bleeding spot. Wang held her hand with a stern glance.

            “Don’t! It will be… it will be his death!”

            Gwendolin shook her head with a frown.

            “Of course it will be his death if we don’t tend his wound, mister Wang! Now, please…”

            The shaman’s strong hand held her wrist in the middle of the movement.

            “You don’t understand! Chao is… _consecrated_. He cannot be… _seen_ , his body is not allowed to be _seen_!”

            The human was outraged.

            “But is he allowed to die? To bleed until death? Sorry for your beliefs, I won’t let this boy die out of…”

            Her outburst was cut short by a shaman’s gesture.

            “Let me keep him from being seen. It is all I ask, please!”

            “I don’t know if it will work…”

            ‘Please, try! But remember he cannot… be _seen_ …”

            It was one of the strangest requests Gwendolin could imagine from a father who was about to lose a son to hemorrhage, but then, in so a strange world…

            Dragging Chao to a corner of the main tent, she beckoned Beryl to bring some bandages and what more the hobbit could deem necessary, and eased the dark curled haired boy so it would be easy to ease him from his upper armour. The huge north dog didn’t leave their side for a single moment, and growled menacingly when the human began to undress him.

            “Shoo, doggie, I’m trying to help your master, ok?”

            Liao Wang pulled her sleeve some more times, but her confidence that she was doing the best for the dog’s owner finally downed on the beast. Better so, because if Gwendolin allowed a minute of attention to what kind of ‘pet’ she was shooing, she probably would faint or run away, and none of these alternatives would be useful right then.

            Drogo and Dudo Baggins were bringing in a stunned dwarf under the tent when Gwendolin managed to cut away Chao’s breast plate and to release his damaged skin to be evaluated, cleansed and sewn.

            “Oh!”

\---

            The road had been long and tiresome, and what he expected to find was not there at all. Some days earlier he had been warned that the bridges to Lake Town were to be uplifted, and it had been hard to find a barge willing to take him to Dale. When he finally reached Dale, he had to use all his persuasion abilities to leave the town next day, as someone had determined that the gates should be shut and don’t be opened in any circumstance at all. Helpfully, Princesses Sigrid and Tilda still held his old grey hat in their memories, and granted him not only free pass through the town but also the best steed they had in the royal stables.

            It was late afternoon of Durin’s Day when Gandalf the Grey reached the east skirts of the Lonely Mountain, to find heaps of dead orcs and warriors of many races and in many health conditions to greet him.

            A little fellow, brown curly hair and smudges of black orc blood on his face and body, stormed at him as soon as his silvery scarf was to be seen.

            “You are late!”

 


	44. A Toast to the Fallen

            Kíli’s face showed how much he was tired, even if his body language tried to conceal his sadness for the losses he knew were impossible to avoid in such a battle. Having known in advance that there would be an attack, even in barely in time to prepare themselves, had been what kept them from disaster, but things could have been far worse. What worried him more was that, if those had been only the high ranked soldiers of a growing orc army looking for the chance of being reckoned as leaders of the army’s divisions, then the actual army growing in the mountain ranges in the north was a large one, larger than the Free Peoples who lived in Rhovanion could be able to defeat. And if they were defeated, nothing would keep them from heading west, to the bountiful lands between the Ered Luin and the Old North Road. That meant humans in Bree and other settlements, halflings in the Shire, and his own people and more humans in the Blue Mountains. Something had to be done, and fast.

            “Ugh!” His musings were cut short by the sting of a cleansing potion that Lily used to wash a cut in his arm. “Aunty, don’t be cruel, I was just playing outside a little!”

            Lily shook her head.

            “You are hopeless!” The cut was not really deep and only a bandage was enough, quickly wrapped by her deft hands. To leave it unattended, though, would certainly mean infection. “If every time you get bored you go outside and fight an orc pack, my aunt will get grey-haired before her time!”

            “Don’t worry, your cousins are taking care of this with laudation!”

            He stood up from the chair in the main infirmary and began to walk amidst the other injured warriors who had been able to reach Erebor without the need of first aids in the battle ground. Some should have been patched up before coming back, but it was obvious the stubbornness other peoples regarded as characteristic of the Children of Mahal was only due. Some others were having a second look at hurriedly made stitches and curatives, but that was only the infirmary destined for light injuries. The ones who had got the worst of the battle had been moved to other rooms in the Healing House, so their wounds would be taken care of with due attention. To every hurt man Kíli had a word of encouragement and gratitude, a gesture, a pat on the shoulder

            Almost stepping outside the door he found Balin coming down the corridor dragging a complaining Ellen at his side.

            “It is barely a scratch, brother, don’t pester me!”

            “Aye, it is barely a scratch and I am a stone giant. Now, to the healers with you!”

            “Argh, Balin, don’t you know how many times I got my head hit and nothing ever happened? Give me a bandage to bind it and it is done.”

            Kíli met them and raised his hand to touch Ellen’s forehead just above her left temple.

            “Now, now, will you tell me you have only a slight headache?”

            She looked down at him and heaved a sigh.

            “Not _even_ a headache!”

            He smeared her blood between his fingers and shook his head.

            “Your head must be getting harder as the time passes, my fancy elf, just like you are getting more stubborn each passing year. Soon you’ll be turned into a dwarf, I doubt it not. Come, I’m sure Lily will be glad to tend your headache along with your cut.”

            “Hey, I’m saying I have _not_ a headache, all right?”

“Aunt!” Lily spotted her at the door and grabbed Ellen’s arm to bring her inside the infirmary. “What a nasty cut, let me fix it!”

“Durin’s beard, is my family decided on pampering me?”

“Always!”

With that she was dragged away and Kíli took the chance to speak to Balin while they headed for the wing of the Healing House where the worse cases were being tended to. The young king signalled his brother-in-law to sit with him on a bench just out of the last corridor.

“How many casualties?”

“Less than average in a struggle like this, but we can count ourselves lucky for having known of their plans beforehand. Were it the way they planned…”

“I know, I was thinking about it not a minute ago. Even so, _less than average_ still means a number. How many, Balin?”

The elderly dwarf dropped his head.

“Two of the Rangers, and one more of them had his ribs severely broken, Óin isn’t sure if he will make it; the hunting master of the North-Easterlingas is dead, and the son of the Shaman is unconscious with a wide gash in his chest, or at least it is what that Gwendolin woman says, as the Shaman doesn’t let anyone beside her and himself to tend the laddie, there seems to be some kind of taboo, and if someone tries to touch the laddie that huge dog of his growls menacingly enough for anyone to give it up; then there are five men of Dale, but our losses were heavier.”

Sometimes Kíli thought it could be easier to get a direct answer from a wizard than from a politic like Balin, and pressed on again.

“How many tombs, Balin? How many will we return to the stone on Durin’s Day?”

Balin’s eyes watered. For all death he had seen along his long life, every new loss was felt like a blow, as an irreplaceable life was forfeit.

“Eighteen of us. Bifur’s men came back unscathed, but in the field we lost eighteen; two Broadbeams formerly from the Iron Hills, three from the Firebeards, two more from the Stiffbeards and the remaining from Durin’s folk.”

Kíli hid his face in his hands.

“It doesn’t matter who their longfathers were, they were all Children of Mahal and warriors of Erebor. Eighteen _families_ , Balin; mothers and wives who will not have their sons and husbands back, children who will grow up asking where their fathers are… all of them, Balin, all of them always and forever asking _why_.”

A warm hand on his shoulder reminded him he was not the only one to know the hurts a war could bring.

“It is not your fault, laddie.”

“Isn’t it, Balin? I’m their king, I’m supposed to grant them safeness, secure halls where they can live and grow their families in wealth and plenty, not to lead them to a battle where so many lives are lost! How will they ever forgive me?”

“Kíli. Laddie. Look at me.” He did as he was told to. “If it weren’t for your lead, we would not have the friendship both of elves and men, nor be so bold as to make the ravens our informers. We would not have Bifur’s Silent Army if it weren’t for insistence with the Council of Lords that he was capable and able to teach anyone a trick or two; of course the Lords had no clue as to which extent Bifur’s ‘tricks’ could reach, and, to tell you the truth, I myself am not sure of it. Because of _your_ confidence in Bifur a whole ‘team’ of orcs has been slain with no damage to our own.”

“But we lost people all the same.”

Balin exasperated.

“What do you believe wars are made of? Laddie, it was close to a miracle to have just this amount of casualties considering the amount of orcs we fought! If they had caught us unprepared…”

Kíli shut his eyes hard again, blinking away tears that insisted to well up.

“It would have been a slaughter.”

“It would. None of us would be wearing armoury under our finery, not have any weapons to react.”

“My Little Sister’s wedding would have been…”

“Carnage. And the dead ones would not have been solely warriors, but women and children too. _Your_ children, Kíli, _my_ nephews and nieces.” The boy winced at the thought. “And even that, laddie, would have been forgivable if it had been other way, if you had not the information of their plans. Disasters happen, even to the wisest of kings.”

A picture out of legend came to his mind and Kíli could not suppress half a smile.

“At least I’ll not stumble on my own beard like Náin II…”

“A proud exponent of the Longbeard’s clan, that’s what the history says!”

Feeling as refreshed as possible after his venting out with Balin, Kíli stood up to fulfil his duty at the Healing House.

“Come. Let us see the worse hurt ones and then tend to the living. Battle or no battle, today is Durin’s Day Festival, and the living deserve to rejoice.”

 

000ooo000

 

            “This is not fair!”

            “That’s what I said since the beginning, Mister Bofur! This is not fair and this is not right!”

            “And I agree!”

            Knee and Frérin supported the toymaker with all their pouting and crossed arms on their chests, although for different reasons.

            Bofur was glad to find the royal brats at his house along with his children and nephews; the little dwarrow-girl Dahl had given birth days before was still secluded at home with her mother as the traditions demanded. Their feeling of insult was priceless, even if for the wrong reasons.

            “There is nothing unfair in being left home instead of going to a battle you are too young to fight in. I’m sure Mister Bofur has _other_ things to deem unfair.”

            Lyn’s words were the buckle of iced water the boys didn’t intend to accept.

            “Of course he deems it unfair to leave us warriors home when all the fun is outside!”

            Lyn pretended to be looking around for someone that wasn’t there.

            “Warriors? Where are the warriors you are talking about?”

            Leri supressed a chuckle as he came into the living room with a freshly dressed and braided Kim, who scratched her laced neck as if it were the seed of a gibbet. Fíli and Zifur came behind him, looking pompous in their party clothes.

            “ _We_ are the warriors, you… you _diplomat_!”

            Bofur had to concede a smile to the youngsters’ antics.

            “Hey, laddies, if you were warriors, you’d be summoned to the battle, and, if Lyn were a diplomat, she would use words that you would deem to be a praise instead of an insult, even saying the same thing. But what I say is not fair is that all our efforts to make a Durin’s Day Festival worthy to be remembered for years to come has been marred by those stupid orcs.”

            Zirc came out of the other corridor with amber coloured jewelry outstanding in her dark hair. Dibur and Difur followed her, reddish manes combed and extravagantly braided. They had not beards yet, but managed to braid their hairs so that it would loop bellow their chins like their father’s beard would do.

            “So, darling, have we all our bunch ready for the festival?”

            Bofur looked at her with adoring eyes.

            “Yes, we have. But it is still a shame we had to postpone our going to it because of those…”

            “…Watch your mouth…”

            “…orcs. That’s it. Orcs, no other adjectives.”

            “If you forgive me, Mister Bofur, may I ask about the visitors, if they are all right after the battle?”

            Bofur looked at the babysitter curious about his questioning, as he used to be quite the shy guy, hardly having his voice heard when amongst others than the children.

            “The Earthlings are fine, and the Rivendell lot is fine too; have I forgotten to mention anyone?”

            “Uh, well, I suppose…”

            “Oh, aye, and mister Beorn and his black squirrel, you should have seen how the little thing threw pebbles at the orcs, the little fellow has an astounding aim and managed to blind more than one orc, if you believe me!”

            “I believe, aye, I believe…”

            Noticing Leri’s look of ‘ _that was not quite what I was asking for_ ’, Bofur completed.

            “Ah, and by the way of little fellows, the Shire-folk went splendidly! Not quite the fighters, most of them, except for Bilbo and his letter-opener, and Paladin is quite an archer, if you believe me. Now the others…”

            “What about the others?”

            Leri’s anxiety was almost palpable.

            “Well, the others survived. No casualties amongst the Halflings, none at all.”

            “Well, that’s a… relief.” His eyes wandered around with no target. “I mean, that there has been so few casualties in the battle. Do you think… everyone will be able to go to the festival?”

            “No, I don’t think so, Leri, there are several people in the Healing Houses, most healers and nurses surely will be working until late today, and a lot in the next days, or even weeks.”

            “Oh, aye, of course.”

            “But I bet a mouse whisker that everyone who is in good health will be attending the festival.” One more moment of observation gave Bofur the certainty that there was something weird happening. “I don’t doubt those two beautiful Halfling lasses will be attending, if I learned something about Shire-folk at all.”

            Leri blush was visible under his carefully tended beard.

            “ _Mi’ter_ Leri, _Mi’ter_ Leri, can we go to the _pa’ty_ now? If we don’t go soon _Hazy_ will get sleepy!”

            The babysitter caressed the younger of Durin’s heirs’ cheek and took the large rabbit from the ground.

            “Then, let us go party, little one. When your friend Hazel gets tired we can head home with her, what do you think?”

            “ _Pe’fect_ , _Mi’ter_ Leri!”

            And that whole lot went to the festival that was held both in the rejoicing of Durin’s Day and the victory in battle as in the memory of the ones who fell in defense of their homes and kingdom.

 

000oo000

 

            The royal family and High Council had taken turns in visiting most of the stalls that had been set for the festival, every here and there praising a speciality baked for the feast, or a troupe of artists who performed a nice show, or a merchant who took on the task of decorating his surroundings, or the musicians and dancers who made the whole kingdom to burst with energy.

            Bofur and Zirc had a hard time, along with Leri, to keep the youngsters from tackling down Revin, the candyman, who had made whole batches of hard candies in the shape of Durin’s sigil and gave them out as small gifts for everyone, but mostly to the children. Knee and Frérin crossed their arms on their chests as if they were very far from that kind of behaviour, taking advantage of their slightly better self-control over their sister.

            “Lyn, are you sure you are able to eat all this amount of strawberry candy?”

            The girl cross-eyed on purpose, hiding her lips under her twisted fingers.

            “Hmm, no, I don’t think so, I’ll have to move to Mister Revin’s stall and eat it one batch each day until I finish it!”

            They were close to the main banquet hall when Kim went crazy.

            “Dada! Dada! Dada is there, Dada!”

            Seeing that Kíli was indeed inside the hall Zirc let her go from her hand, thinking it funny to see the dwelfling running like hell to meet her father with an enormous rabbit at her heels. Fíli was as moved as his younger sister, but resisted it for one or two minutes more, then he ran too, grabbing his father by the waist, trying to show he was taller than he actually was. Kíli knelt down and embraced his younger children with tightly closed eyes where the hint of a tear could be seen in the corner of his eye.

            “Did you behave while in Mister Bofur’s house? Didn’t you break or destroy anything?”

            Fíli was the one to answer his father.

            “No, Adad, we broke nothing, not a thing and not even a _bone_!”

           Kíli squeezed them, making Kim to squirm in his arms, and fingered Fíli’s braids with a care none would expect from an experienced warrior.

            “I’m glad to hear it; remember to break only the bones of our enemies, will you?”

            “We will, Adad!”

            Kim squirmed a bit more and asked her own pressing question.

            “Mama?”

            “She is up there, little one, with your uncle Wolfram and Mister Radagast.”

            The dwelfling looked to where her mother was supposed to be and frowned, seeing her bandaged head.

            “Mama hurt?”

            “Just a little thing in her head, nothing to worry about.”

            “Mama get like _Mi’ter_ Bifur?”

            Kíli shook his head, amused by the little being’s worries.

            “No, she won’t, it was only a tiny cut, Mama will be fine.”

            “Oh.”

            The visible disappointment in his daughter was at the same time funny and bothersome, as he grasped that his wife, and he himself even more, were maybe putting too much effort in the kingdom issues and not enough in what really mattered. Too much time in the Council Halls and too little time tickling their children. It was yet time to mend things.

            “Why don’t you go and play with Sal? She just came in with her Dada, and I heard she’s got a new jigsaw puzzle that is very, very difficult to solve!”

            Seeing his younger one giggle and run away without even a glance back at him, excitd by the opportunity to play with her age mate, Kíli felt calmer as to that his part in life still held place for him to live what any commoner was granted in his life: a family, with it’s worries and joys. A part of him missed his youth in the Blue Mountains, with his brother, his uncle and his mother, and…

Kíli looked at the center of the high table, to see Dís in her finest chainmail as she didn’t wear since he was a dwarfling and an enourmous orc raid took place. And an enourmous orc raid had taken place that day, that very morning, and now his mother was there, the only one of his family who still was there, after everything.

            Not that Dís was unscathed; no, she had built shells uppon shells of protection after everything she had lost, and it showed in her way to deal with people. But he was glad she was there, and that, unlike him, his children had the chance to know their grandmother, to play with her, to keep her mind occupied and away from her pain. And she was a mighty counselor, undoubtfully.

            “Dada?”

            The light tug in his sleeve brought him back to Middle-Earth.

            “Aye, Fíli?”

            “Can I play with Hanoy? He is human, but I know he is cool.”

            The king ruffled his son’s hair.

            “Did your mom teach you this way of speaking?”

            “Ahm, hmmm…”

            “Go play. I am sure someone you deem as a ‘ _cool_ ’ lad must be a good company for you.”

            Fíli’s smile as he run away was priceless.

            “I’ll be back at your side, Dada! Whenever you need me!”

            Having had not much more than a couple of minutes to settle his mind, a mug of ale and a ricedumpling I his hands, a keen howl got Kíli’s attentin.

            “What will be of me? What will be of my sons?”

            The dwarrowdam was overwhelmed by her grief, and her high pitched wail was broken now and then by her worried complaints. Other widows and orphans shared her tears, but she was the only one who seemed despaired by the perspective of her future. An elderly dwarrowdam held her in her arms, but had her face in tears just the same. Kíli noticed it and asked Nori.

            “Who is that woman? I don’t remember the knot she wears, who was her husband?”

            The intelligencer took a better look and answered.

            “She is Kír, daughter of Kheram, they came from the Blue Mountains in the first caravan after the Retake. She was married to a warrior of the Iron Hills, Nónnar son of Rónnar, not many years after. They moved to Erebor not quite a moon ago, when her old father died and left her mother alone. Íra didn’t want to move away from here and convinced them to come, and having a commendation from Daín’s weapon master Dwalin accepted him into the army at once. It seems he was not that good a warrior after all, or that his luck just left him.”

            “She mentioned children…?

            “Yes, two sons, the eldest twenty and something and the youngest barely out of the swaddles.”

            The young king stood up and headed to the crying woman, but Balin tried to stop him.

            “Wait, laddie, what are you…?”

            “I’m going to talk to her, to comfort her.”

            “It not really your position to…”

            “Forget it, Balin, we have had this discussion before.”

            Acknowledging his own defeat, Balin followed Kíli to the table where Kír and some other widows shared their pain. Most of them stood up to curtsy, to what he answered accordingly to his position, but the distressed woman had no clue that anyone was there beside her own pain. It was her mother who grabbed her shoulders to shake out of her trance.

            “My king.”

            “Lady Íra.”

            Kíli reached a hand and touched softly the crying woman’s hand. She conceded a wet glance in his direction, but couldn’t stand it and looked down at her wringing hands again.

            “Lady Kír. Please, don’t worry yourself this way. I won’t tell you not to cry, because I know what it is to lose a beloved one to death, and to war. But please, don’t worry yourself. You are in Erebor, house of the folk of Durin. Don’t worry.”

            She managed to swallow her sobs and looked up at him again.

            “How am I not to worry? What will be of me, of my children? My father is gone, my husband is gone, who will take care of me?”

            Kíli squeezed her hand, as any closer contact could be misunderstood, mostly if coming from the king,

            “I am sure you are capable of taking care of yourself, proud daughter of the Longbeards. But you don’t have to worry, because the folk of Durin takes care of their own. Nónnar was a mighty warrior of the Army of Erebor, his share is granted, you don’t have to worry.”

            Kír sobbed once more at the mention of her husband’s name.

            “But he was not, was he? We just moved in, he didn’t even have his contract signed yet, there had been no time for it and…”

            A new outburst of tears strangled her voice and the content of her words almost made Kíli angry.

            “Hear me, lady; it is your _king_ who is saying that Nónnar son of Rónnar has his share as a fallen warrior of Erebor and that nor you nor your children will lack anything you need. Anyway, they would not lack anything they needed even if they were not sons of a warrior, but because they are citizens of Erebor. Are you doubting the word of your king?”

            “No! No, shame on me, no, my king, I didn’t mean…”

            “Then know the people of Durin stays strong because they stick together. In wealth andsovereignty, in poverty and exile, I doesn’t matter. We are _one_ people, and we share our fates. Now, feast with us the glory your husband achieved in battle, in defense of our kingdom from the villainy of the orcs.”

            Kíli beckoned a bartender and made him to pour wine for him and for the young widow, and made her to stand up in front of him and looked deep into her eyes.

            “Now, lady Kír, we drink to Nónnar son of Rónnar in the Hals of Waiting, where he shares his cup with my uncle Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, and my brother Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, both of them fallen to reclaim this kingdom for our people, for you and your sons. Is this company good enough for your husband, milady?”

            Kír swallowed her pain, seasoning it with pride, and rose with her wine goblet high in the air, understanding her pain was not solely hers, but shared by everyone in that hall, not least her own king, even so young, by decades younger than herself.

            “To the fallen in glory!”

            Her hurt voice was heard by the closest ones and repeated wide and loud.

            “ _To the fallen in glory_!”

 


	45. Memories of a Headache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry, my beautiful readers, but I’m running like a Rhosgobel rabbit with things for my son’s birthday party that is going to happen tomorrow and won’t be able to finish the chapter I intended to post this weekend.  
> But… if you bear with me, I managed to fit a chapter as some memories of Kíli from more or less a year and some months after BoFA, so you won’t miss his adventures this week. This chapter is not really necessary for the development of the plots, but it was a scene I thought was too cute not to be written, and I was waiting for a chance to post it. I hope you enjoy, and I’d love to hear your reviews!

            After making sure the guests attending to the main feasting hall were enjoying themselves as much as possible given the circumstances, Kíli made himself comfortable at the high table, finally reaching for a plate and piling food on it. A waiter poured him a large mug of ale, and the first draught of it tasted like rain on a scorched desert. The ruffle of skirts nearby caught his attention, and he smiled at the tall elf who found her place beside him.

            “Do you know you are beautiful in white?”

            Ellen side smiled and leant into him as Kíli carded her hair, stopping at the white bandage that adorned her forehead.

            “A praise I could live without, if it means a couple of stitches wherever.”

            Kíli touched lightly where a small spot of blood showed through.

            “Are you in pain?”

            “Not really. The stitches itch a little, but I have a slight headache. It was a very long day.”

            “Indeed.” He bit a slice of chicken pie and turned back to her with his mouth full and grinned. “Hmm, are you sure all you have is only a headache?”

            Ellen’s fork stopped midway between her plate and her mouth, and eyes him sideways.

            “Kíli son of Dís, all I have is a light headache, understood? Nothing else.”

            “Are you sure?”

            His cheeky smile was a teasing one, and all she could do was to laugh.

            “Now that you mention it… No, I’m not, but I’m not in the mood to search for feathers on eggshells. It is supposedly only a headache and it will pass with a bit of food, drink and good company. For that I count on you.”

            The young dwarf king took his mug of ale and let his eyes wander absently around the hall as his mind wandered back to the second winter after the defeat of Smaug. It had been a year of hard work and the kingdom was slowly turning into something inhabitable when Ellen had a _sligh headache._

 

000ooo000

 

            The family lunch was not a bit different form any other before. It gathered the royal dwelling inhabitants, namely Dís, Kíli and Ellen; Ellen brothers that were also Dís far cousins Balin and Dwalin, and their first degree cousins Óin and Glóin (as Fundin was the older brother of Gróin), along with Glóin’s wife Ylm and son Gimli, a tad younger than Kíli but almost coming of age, what was reason enough for a lot of talking and planning for his birthday, as he would be the first to become of age after the Retaking.

            It was about the end of the season, and that winter had been merciful on Rohvanion as a whole, as if nature was glad for the new arrangements between dwarves, men and elves. Yes, elves, as after several meetings an agreement had been reached, and a trade treaty signed, and they were allies now, much to Iron Hills kingdom incomprehension and distress. Ellen herself was feeling a bit distressed by the repeated observations on Iron Hills people, as in her mind to prejudice prejudiced people was as bad as to be prejudiced; they must have their causes, like Thorin had his own to distrust her race, even if there were not _reasons_ , in the sense of rational, logic drives.

            The venison stew was already tasting weird to her before she perceived how much Dís and Ylm were stressing the fact that Iron Hills people were _different_ from themselves, and that they being _different_ made them be so stubbornly against their negotiations with Mirkwood elves (as if they themselves had not held a grudge on those elves for almost two centuries), and that Mirkwood elves were _different_ from the ones of Imladris.

            Were it not enough, when she thought the issue had been exhausted, the two of them began to explain to Gimli how the Iron Hills dwarrowdams were _different_ from the ones in the Blue Mountains who had endured the hardships of exile while the previous had hid in the closest settlement; as if Gimli was really interested in such a subject, which was obvious he was not, paying more attention to his father, Kíli and Dwalin’s accounting of battles. Balin accidentally spilling his ale mug was the excuse she needed to retire from the dinning room after wiping the mess with a dishcloth.

            Half an hour later Kíli found her in a corner of the laundry, arms embracing her legs and brow resting on her knees. He knelt beside her and lightly touched her hair.

            “Ellen, are you all right? What are you doing here?”

            At least he asked how she was before asking what she was doing there, as she deemed to be the family kink, but even so she had no energy to do much more than to raise her eyes to her husband.

            “I’m hiding in the laundry just a little bit, thank you very much.”

            “But _why_? We are all having a happy family meal, a merry meeting. Come on, what’s wrong?”

            Ellen thought that, if he had to ask, he would not understand her answer.

            “Me.” She buried her face deeper in her knees as if it were possible. “It’s just a slight headache, everything is fine.”

            Kíli took in a deep breath and held her face up so she could not avoid his gaze.

            “I may be a youngling in your elven account, but I have dealt with stubborn warriors long enough to know when someone is lying to me about something that hurts. So, I ask you again, what’s wrong?”

            She lowered her eyes so not to meet his gaze even if his gentle but unyielding grip didn’t allow her to turn away from him.

            “ _I_ am wrong. I’m _no_ dwarrowdam, I _don’t_ behave like a lady, moreover like a queen, and I don’t behave at all as a dwarrowdam should, Ylm and you your mother are making it very clear and specific that no, I’m not what the realm expects of the wife of the heir of Durin.”

            “But, Ellen…”

            She weaved her hand in front of her, as if to avoid his protests.

            “Kíli, I’ll _never_ be good enough. Period. Your mother keeps saying how a dwarrowdam should behave just to say I don’t’ behave like that, that I’ll never be fit, I’ll never be what is expected from a queen at your side. Just as if I ever had the idea of becoming a queen whenever.” She leaned on his shoulder, a little more relaxed after venting out what bothered her. “I’m just tired and I have a light headache. Can I just hide in the laundry to be quiet for a little bit, if you please?”

            He caressed he hair, smilingly, bringing her closer to him.

            “Ma wants to help you, to explain how things work in our society. And Ylm is the perfect portrait of an ordinary dwarrowdam, so she uses her as an example.”

            “And then they both make their best to make it clear that I’m _not_ what Durin’s folk expect of their king’s consort.”

            “It is not so…”

            She felt herself safe in her husband’s chest, enjoying his warmth and the rough caress his hands provided on her back, but warm tears threatened to make themselves free at any moment.

            “Yes, it is. I am the wrong, I am the different, I am not the dwarrowdam everybody expects to be their consort queen; even if I never sought for this.” She buried her face deeper in his shoulder.

            Kíli summoned his practical point of view, knowing it used to work on her.

            “All right, be it so if you wish. But now you are going to our chambers and you are going to lay down to rest a bit. I’ll send Óin to see you.”

            “I’m not sick, leave Óin out of this.”

            He stood up and grabbed her hands in his, not allowing her to complain about staying in the laundry or anything else while he guided her to their chambers.

            “Aye, you are not sick and I am a hobbit. I’ll send Óin to see you.”

            “Humpf. Elves don’t get sick, silly!”

            “I’ll inform Óin of this, but he is an experienced healer, he might know it already.”

            Ellen just facepalmed, shaking her head.

            “Kíli, I’m not ill, I’m just annoyed, ok?”

            He shook his head, agreeing, but held her with his arm across her waist nonetheless while they walked to their chambers. Once there, he made sure to find the most comfortable spot on the mattress before he let her really lay down and relax.

            “All right, now your mother will be complaining to Ylm that I make you be away from family. Go finish dinner, I’ll be fine.”

            “Of course you will, after Óin takes a look at you.”

            “I don’t need to be seen by Óin, it’s just a headache, I’m not sick.”

            Kíli sat on the bed beside her and took her hands in his.

            “I acknowledge you determination in becoming a good dwarf, and your stubbornness is really admirable, but sorry, I’m still more stubborn than you. I’ll go get Óin.”

            He leant down to kiss her forehead, brushing her breast with his arm; she winced.

            “Ouch! Be careful, my breasts are sore.”

            “Sorry. What happened?”

            “I don’t know; maybe too rough playing in yesterday’s sparring with Dwalin, he never takes it easy with me, I must have been hit and didn’t notice it then.”

            “Dwalin never takes it easy with _anyone_ , it is not just with you.”

            “Humph. It doesn’t make me feel any better.”

            “But it should. At least you can’t say he treats you any different, if that’s what is bothering you.”

            “It doesn’t count, he is my brother.”

            He caressed her hair and kissed her again before standing up to leave the room.

            “You treat me too well, you spoil me.”

            “Once I _said_ I’d take care of you, and I _will_.”

            She watched him leave with a glance back at her and a cheeky smile. Her headache wasn’t subsiding, and she was glad by the dim light of the fire instead of the clearer light in the dinning room. A bit of sleep would be enough, she deemed, but few moments later Óin came in after a knock on the door and took a stool to sit at her side.

            “Now, now, what do we have here? A sick girl, that’s what we have!”

            Ellen rolled her eyes to his paternal behavior.

            “I’m not _sick_ , cousin, elves don’t get _sick_.”

            “This is good news, indeed. Then, why have I been summoned to see you?”

            “Humpf. I didn’t summon you, all I have is a mild headache and all I need is a bit of rest, that’s all.”

            “I would fix you a tea for this headache, but I have to be sure it won’t do any harm. You know medicines can have side effects, and I’m not quite used to elven physiology. So, I’ll have to ask you some questions.”

            The elf shook her head mentally, as actually shaking it would make the ache worse; what did he want to _ask_ if not _questions_?

            “Go ahead, I give up.”

            “Have you eaten something different from your usual diet?”

            “No.”

            “Have you been in close contact with any kind of animal that could be sick?”

            “No.” The only _animal_ she had close contact with was her husband, and she was quite glad for the _animal_ she had in her bed each night. But she would not tell this to Óin, of course.

            “Have you been in any kind of fight where your head could be beaten, or had any kind of fall?”

            “Nope, besides sparring with Dwalin.”

            “When was your last woman-curse?”

            “My _what_?”

            It was Óin’s turn to roll his eyes.

            “Your woman-curse, as some call it; human call it the moon-curse, or moon-time, as it occurs to their females once a month, in average. Dwarrowdams have it more sparsely, twice per year, and I figure it that elves have it just once a year.”

            The bell rang in Ellen’s head. Or course, female issues. Why couldn’t people simply say ‘ _menstruation_ ’ instead of finding allegories to call what was only natural? When Arwen explained her some particulars on elven issues that she would have learnt as a child or at latest as a teen, this was a point she found interesting, as being relieved from bleeding each month was very welcome.

            “I don’t remember quite right, but it was not long after the Retaking.”

            Óin looked pleased.

            “So it is more than a year ago, I assume. Any other symptoms?”

            “Óin, for the last time, I’m not sick, I don’t have any _symptoms_ to be listed!”

            He chuckled.

            “It’s not only sicknesses that have symptoms, cousin. So, let us see: does any smell or taste make you feel queasy or nauseated?”

            Ellen thought for a moment. No, not queasy, but…

            “I changed my bath soap last week, the one I’m used to was smelling like clothes washing soap. But it must have been a parcel that didn’t work well, all the ones I had in stock smelt likewise.”

            “And are using the same soap from another parcel?”

            “No, I bought from another dealer.”

            “Ever getting emotional, nervous, distressed, over-reactive?”

            “It is really hard not to get distressed with all problems we are fixing.”

            “Are you getting dizzy or even fainting?”

            “Ouch, yep, but it’s not that hard to get dizzy with all the negotiation and planning meetings I’m attending to, there are days I remember to lunch at dinner time!”

            “Sure. Any morning sickness?”

            “For Durin’s sake, Óin, I’m not sick… wait, morning sickness? What do you mean with _morning sickness_?”

            “Huh, to feel sick in the mornings? To throw up the contents of your stomach soon after you wake up?”

            She felt dizzy and it wasn’t due to lack of food. She took in a deep breath to control herself. It was not so hard to put two and two together.

            “Dearest cousin and healer, presently I bear a mild headache and would settle for a warm tea, if you please. So, can we skip this interrogatory and let me sleep for a while?”

            The healer displayed the biggest smile possible.

            “Is this a ‘ _yes_ ’ to my former question?”

            “No, Óin, this is a ‘ _no’_.”

            “May I ask you why are you so distressed because of a simple question?”

            “Óin, if you are supposing about my _health_ what I suppose you are supposing, should I _not_ be distressed?”

            He chuckled.

            “It would be a very happy development, Ellen! And one that would be so welcome! Why _should_ you be distressed?”

            Ellen closed her eyes and counted to ten before answering him.

            “Have you ever taken notice of the _size_ of Kíli’s _head_? Should I _not_ be distressed?”

            His chuckled turned to a roaring laughter. When it subsided, he blinked a reassuring eye to her.

            “Dwarflings are little, don’t worry. The same blessing that allows a life to form will allow it to come forth.”

            She shook her head lightly and lowered her eyes.

            “It is not a certainty, Óin. My brother lost his wife to childbirth, and she had a lot of medical resources available that no place in Middle-Earth has developed yet. What if something goes wrong? I know there is always a life risk.”

            The old healer was serious again, having seen more than one childbirth disaster along his years.

            “Ellen, I’d deem it too early to worry about it. We are not even sure yet, you don’t have all the classical symptoms, just some, and they can be due to various other conditions. As you said, you’ve through a lot of stress, skipping meals, and so on. Anyway, we must wait a bit more to be sure. But then, yes, it is a risk, but if you had the choice, would you really give it up? Nobody was sure if dwarf and elf could produce children together, it has never happened before; that’s why I said it is a blessing; would you give it up for fear?”

            She dismissed the thought with a weave of her hand and a scowl.

            “It’s obvious that I wouldn’t! When have you ever seen me back off of something out of fear? Come on, I’ve faced a dragon! This is ridiculous!”

            “Ah, this is the Ellen Dwarvenheart that I know!” He smiled. “Now, if you would allow me to examine you…”

            Answering with a nod, the elf pulled back the blanket so he could probe her lower belly with his experienced healer hands.

            “So, as I suspected, it is too early to be sure. We should be able to feel a small bump here in some weeks, though. Anyway, take better care of yourself, don’t miss meals, drink lots of water and sleep as much as you can. Don’t drink any tea besides the ones I’ll leave for you.”

            She sat up on the bed and covered herself again, taking his hand in hers.

            “Óin, may I ask you a favor?”

            “Anything, dear!”

            “Don’t tell anyone yet. Let us be sure before arousing hopes. As you said, it never happened before.”

            “ _What_ did never happen before?”

            A worried dwarf stood at the door, wide eyed, having caught only the last sentence.

            “Kíli?”

            “Of course; who else?” Some hurried strides brought him to her side and he demanded an answer from the healer whilst he grabbed her hand in his. “ _What_ did never happen before? Óin, what is wrong with my wife?”

            “There is nothing _wrong_ with her, actually…”

            “ _Óin_ …”

            “She has a mild headache and I’ll fix her a tea.”

            “It didn’t take all this time to find out she has a headache, it was already known!”

            “Yes, but Óin is not quite used to elven physiology and had to ask me some questions first. Just to be sure.”

            “Sure about what?”

            “About what tea he can fix me.”

            “Argh, between you two, it would be easier to get a forward answer from a wizard!”

            Ellen and Óin exchanged a conspiring chuckle and he took the clue to leave them alone.

            “I’ll go fix some tea.”

            Kíli nodded to him and turned back to the smilingly woman beside him.

            “Now, by Durin’s beard, what is going on here? You’re getting me worried to death!”

            “Well, it might be just too much stress, or it might be false alarm, because, as you overheard, it never happened before, but…”

            “But what, for Mahal’s sake!?”

            Having got over the first shock, she was able to amuse herself with the idea, now.

            “But maybe I’ve found a way to get Dáin more disgusted to me than he already is.”

            “I can hardly find a plausible reason for this. What could make him even more annoyed to you?”

            “Maybe – and I _mean_ , just _maybe_ – to know that he is no more the next in the line of succession to the throne of Erebor.”

            It took some moments for his brain to process the information. His jaw dropped just a little and Ellen gently touched his chin to put it back in place.

            “Are you telling what you are telling me?”

            “I suppose so. After all, dwarflings don’t spring out of stone, do they? Or _dwelflings_ , by the way.”

            Kíli begun to laugh manically, messing her hair as he embraced her fiercely; she was unable to anything than to laugh along, realizing the little miracle that might have happened to them.

            “We will have a baby!”

            “We _may_ have a baby, silly! We don’t know yet for sure. Right now all I have is a headache.”

            He let her lose and held her arms loosely, suddenly afraid to hurt her.

            “You won’t be sparring anymore, it is too dangerous.”

            “Kíli…”

            “And, and you must eat properly, you are too skinny, and…”

            “Kíli!”

            “What?”

            “Stop fussing over me like Dwalin, will you? I may or may not be with child, but it does not mean I’m with a terminal disease!”

            “But, but…” He was visibly distressed, and held her close to himself again. “I _must_ take care of you, of you _both_! And what if you get hurt? I cannot let you go in the mines anymore, and, and nor to the forges, and what if the Council of Lords get into your nerves? No, you cannot stand to be nervous, you’ll quit attending the Council, and…”

            Ellen felt herself marvellous with all that care, but she was certain it would be too much if she let it be his way. Gently but steadily, she grabbed his arms and made him look at her.

            “Kíli… hear me. I’m not a porcelain doll, and I’ll not quit my duties. Sorry, but no, it’s been months of negotiating, dealing, cajoling, everything to have the Council at our side, and I am sorry, but I wont give them the chance to whisper on our backs that I’m not what Durin’s folk expect of a queen, that I am a weakling. I will do my job as long as my belly allows.”

            “But, but…”

            “No ‘buts’, Kíli! We don’t even know yet if I’m really pregnant, so stop fussing.”

            He took in a deep breath, trying to compose his own thoughts while diving into her eyes with his own.

            “You don’t know what it means, do you? In your human world women have children all the time, isn’t it so? Usual to see families with four, five children?”

            “Nowadays not so usual, but it is really not a foreign concept.”

            “Do you know how long has it been since a baby was born in my family?”

            It hit her.

            “Oh…”

            “The last baby was _me_ , and I just turned seventy-nine. Do you know how many children were born to our people in all the years of exile?” He didn’t wait for her reaction. “Less than two hundred. And not all of them survived. And now you are telling me I should _not_ be worried, overjoyed, hopeful and fussing all at the same time? Ellen, it is more than just a baby, or the hope of a baby, as you insist that it is not a certainty yet; it is the line of Durin struggling to go on, to mend all losses of our years in exile. Did you realize that if it is true, he will be the first dwarfling born in Erebor after the Retaking? Our son, the continuity of Durin’s line, the future of this kingdom.” He cupped her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her brow. “Of course my longfathers are somersaulting in their graves to know Durin’s line will be half-elven, but they will have to get used to it, I assume. And you tell me _not to_ fuss?”

            She lowered her eyes, finally understanding his point of view, but worrying about what all that implied.

            “Sorry, I should have thought about it before.” Ellen held her gaze up and carded his hair in her hand. “But do you understand, too, that I would be really sick if treated anyway different from always? That a pregnancy doesn’t mean a mind disease that doesn’t allow me to do my job?” He nodded with a grin. “I promise that I’ll not overdo, that I’ll take care of my – _our_ – health. But please, don’t overdraw on me, ok? Promise?”

            It was obviously hard on him to promise such a thing, but he knew she would stand to no less.

            “I do. But I will take care of you, of both of you if it is true, because you are my Jewel and this,” He smoothed the blanket over her stomach. “this is my most precious treasure. You are mine to take care of, and I will. Settled?”

            “Settled.” Ellen gifted him with a loving kiss, sealing their _no fussing treaty_. “Because I have faced an angry Thorin and a charging Dwalin, but a fussing Kíli I’m unable!”

 

000ooo000

 

            “A tuna can for your thoughts!”

            “What?”

            “What were you thinking? I thought you’d not be able to smile like this after today’s battle.”

            Her gaze followed his eyes and landed on their children, almost all of them sleeping in a heap nearby, only young Thorin ‘Knee’ sitting upright beside them, attentive as if they were camping outside and he were on the watch.

            “I was thinking… about how wealthy I really am!”

 


	46. In the Healing House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, I think I’m finally managing to keep up with schedule again, and I’m happy to say next week’s chapter is halfway done already.  
> Please let me know which characters you’d like to see more (or less!), as I have a nice flexibility to show things form one or another point of view, in some cases.  
> Also, I'd love to answer and to thank for the sweet kudos you are leaving!

Gwendolin watched Chao’s chest raise and fall rhythmically, wringing her fingers without even taking notice of it. On a nearby chair, Wang held his head between his hands, back hunched in defeat, knowing only time would tell if the lad would live or not.

“Why?”

The man looked up at her with his golden eyes brimmed with tears.

“None should know about this…”

“I know already. I won’t tell any one, you have my promise. But, _why_?”

He leaned heavily on his staff and stood up, coming close to the cot and caressing Chao’s curly hair with a care opposite to his anger at the battle camp. It took so long for him to speak that Gwendolin believed he would keep his silence and secrets.

            “To live in the North… where the Lights of the North come down from the sky as a curtain of spirits and open the gates to other realities… is a tough life. We endure months of night, in the cold, in the snow, on the ice. We have to work hard to grant supplies enough to endure winter in the short period of summer we have, mostly hunting and fishing, because there is so little that grows from the hard, frozen ground, so most of our vegetal supplies must be bought and carted from far away, and it is tough work to travel on that region carting goods.”

            Not understanding what it had to do with Chao’s current situation, the woman asked.

            “Why do your people live there, then, if it is so hard? Can’t you move to other place?”

            “Maybe we could, but there is no other place where the Lights of the North shine. We are their guardians, and they are our protectors. It is a blessing and a burden at the same time. But this is our lot in this life, and so we endure it; if it was given to us, is because the Sun-Cheng are worth it, both the hardship and the blessings. But our life is a tough one, as the weather has no mercy on the weak. That’s why my people has traditions that most of other poples deem as uncouth and even cruel, but they are necessary for us to live, as a people, and not dwindle and be extinguished. We cannont afford to be wiped from this world, because we must keep the promises of our forefathers to the Lights of the North.”

            It was getting even more weird and still didn’t clarify what Gwendolin wanted to know. She nodded and waited.

            “When my wife gave birth to our firstborn, Mei, it was a happiness, but also a worry. As I said, the weather has no mercy on the weak, and Mei was a girl. In ancient and heathen times, no firstborn was allowed to be a girl, because the couple has to have a boy who will grow up to be a strong provider for the Sun-Cheng as a whole and to his parents in particular.”

            “What do you mean? How can one allow or not allow some gender to be born?”

            “One does not, but one can provide that some gender won’t be risen to adulthood and be a liability on the people. In ancient days, all firstborn girls were scarificed the same day they were born, so the couple could soon have a son who would be a provider. It is no more so for some generations already, and for that me and my wife were thankful.”

            Gwendolin shuddered at the thought, and recalled that she had heard things like that about some aboriginal tribes. It didn’t make the idea easier to swallow, anyway.

            “Some years later we were blessed with a second pregnancy, and everyone hoped it would be a boy. Because the traditions had changed, and Mei had been allowed to live, but a second child could not be a girl.”

            Wang wiped a tear that insisted to roll down his cheek and took Chao’s unmoving hand in his.

            “My wife had a difficult delivery, she lost too much blood. I was barely able to keep her alive, and when she saw the baby, her smile… to see her baby was all she needed to forget her pain and to count her blessings. She said, ‘ _Husband, we are blessed!_ ’ and I could see the colour coming back to her face, like she had never shed a drop of blood. Our former leader came into our iglu right then to announce the Lights of the North were shining upon us. I quickly wrapped the baby in warm furs and stepped out to greet the Lights; they had colours I had never seen before, and they were so close you could almost touch them. Then I knew my wife was right, that baby was a blessing on us, on all of us, my little family and the Sun-Cheng people. How could I give up that blessing?”

            He carded Chao’s curly hair and leant down to kiss her forehead.

            “I had to make a decision in a hurry. Chao would never be allowed to live if it were otherwise. I used the apparition of the Lights of the North to justify my actions, and consecrated her to serve the Lights as a chaste shaman. None would ever be allowed to see her body and know the truth, and nobody would question it because she was consecrated, so she was not supposed to be seen. When she came to an age when it would begin to be tougher to keep herself safe, as you know adolescents are quite curious and attracted to the forbidden, I provided her Liao Wang to be her protector. It surprised me that he allowed you to touch her, but I think he understood you wanted to help.”

            The huge snow dog rose at the sound of his name, and whimpered, unhappy, poking Chao’s neck with its nose.

            “I regret so much what I did and said to her in the battle field. She was only making what her heart commanded, like I did when I chose the life of a chaste shaman for her instead of the death of a second daughter. Of all people, I was the one who had less right to condemn her for her decisions.” Rufling Liao Wang’s thick furr, Wang’s voice turned down into a barely audible whisper. “I only hope I’ll have the chance to ask her for her forgiveness.”

            The woman touched Wang’s shoulder in what she hoped to be a reassuring gesture. She only wished to find the right words of comfort as Sister Whoopi always did, but Gwendolin felt herself so clumsy with words as she felt with a weapon in her hands; but she had to try.

            “Mister Wang… It is the hands of the Lord if Chao will come back to us, but it has been done everything possible under the given circumstances, with the technology of this world. I’m not a healer, just a seamstress, but I can grant you every stitch that had to be sewn was done with the greatest care and attention. I have talked to your son, your daughter, whatever, some times along this last weeks, and he, she, is a sensible person, and strong. Her strength will find its way towards healing, have hope.”

            Wang was so distressed he didn’t even question who could be the lord Gwndolin mentioned as he sobbed.

            “But will she ever forgive me…?”

            Gwendolin grabbed the ring pending from her neck in an automatic movement.

            “If I understood it right, you put yourself in danger by protecting her, granting her life despite the traditions of your people. All this love will not have been given adrift. She knows or your love, and that you yelled at her in a moment of anger. I’m sure that she’ll forgive you as soon as she wakes up.”

            The shaman touched his daughter’s face with a delicacy that was more than remorse.

            “If she ever wakes up.”

Gwendolin stood beside the cot, looking helplessly at the shaman and his daughter, when Estel passed beside her in his way to see the Dúnedan who lay in the same room recovering from his broken ribs. Óin suspected the man had more than that damage, because it didn’t explain his high fewer and trashing fits. Even if he was not acknowledged openly as the heir of Isildur, Estel was the leader of his people, and knew his duties. To look after his kinsfolk health was one of them.

‘ _I wish I had brought a camera instead of a hand sewing machine, nobody will believe it at the orphanage_.’ She shook the thought out of her mind. ‘ _Anyway, I could start to take some autoghaphs. Not that anyone will believe they are true, but at least I can keep them as a souvenir. I’ll never have another adventure like this, I’m sure_.’

The same moment she thought it, a strange sadness fell on her. As much as all she wanted was to be safe back home, with her costume drawings and close to her nuns, a side of her that she didn’t know was there regretted it, wishing her life could be something more than her boring daily routine. Not that she liked the idea of getting out in that world chasing orcs and being chased by trolls, but it was more like… what was she living for, actually? Once she questioned Aredhel about what her life was like, and…

“Excuse me?”

Gwendolin looked startled at Estel, who stood right in front of her.

“What? Sorry, I was distracted.”

He gave her a slight smile.

“I don’t want to disturb my fellow in arms, but I want to stay her for a while to see if he wakes up for me to talk to him, if it doesn’t importune you.”

“Me? What, I’m no one you should worry about, I’m not even a healer, I’m just helping with mister Chao’s wound, while you will be…”

She bit her tongue before she spoke too much and he frowned

“I will be what?”

“Ahmm, nothing, sorry, I was just babbling, sorry.” She tried to complete as his sideways gaze showed he was not that convinced by her excuse. “Erm, you will be tending to the Dúnedain warrior, I deem, with your healing hands and all...”

He was quick to grasp her wrist and to look deep in her eyes.

“What do you know about _healing hands_? Who told you about it?”

“What? No, nothing, none, I…” Gwendolin began to stammer. “I just thought that a ranger was bound to know something about healing, I mean, when you live in the wild, you have to know something about first aid, don’t you?”

Estel brought her closer to his face and whispered so only Gwendolin could hear.

“I would buy your explanation if I hadn’t been informed of the little _incident_ with the queen; if you praise your freedom, milady, I suggest you to keep your mouth shut about the things you know that none should know, if you take my meaning.”

That was unexpected and Gwendolin reacted accordingly.

“Are you threatening me? I didn’t expect this kind of behavior of…”

“Shh! I am not threatening you and this is the kind of behavior you can expect from a _simple ranger_ , if you take my meaning. But there can be servants of the Darkness even where you least expect it, and they would love to get _acquainted_ to someone who knows things that are not meant to be known _yet_.”

She looked at her wrist and he let it go at once, not leaving her eyes for a moment, as if to make sure his statement had been understood.

“I will tell no one. I won’t, and I’ll be back to my place in some short weeks, everything will be safe, as much as it depends on me.” Estel noded at her as if taking her words as a promise and she heaved a sigh. It was like if she had been bestowed with a burden of secrets that she had not even been aware of when she realised she was in Middle-Earth. She knew the future, or at least things that were expected to happen in the future, and she knew about the lives of people she had never seen before. It was kind of scary. “But I hope you know there is a lot of chance and serendipity involving what you are fighting for. If something doesn’t happen as you thought it should, it is not my fault!”

“I’m sorry if I upset you; but it is the life of my people we’re talking about.”

“Ok.” The weight of Estel’s future, his doubts and worries, all of it crunched Gwendolin’s hearth, as she knew there was nothing she could do or say to help him or anyone in the quest of the Ring. It was a future that could be already have been changed, as there was no mention of people of her world living in Erebor in the movies she watched. Anything would be just assumption. She fingered her ring, absently, lowering her head and trying to think herself out of that mess.

“What is this?”

Estel’s hand was quick to grasp her ring in the necklace as it had been to grasp her wrist, giving her no chance to react but to hold his hand in hers as if she could be strong enough to keep him from taking the ring from her, if he really wished it.

“It… it was my father’s. He gave it to my mother and she gave it to the nuns that raised me, to give it to me when I came of age.” She felt Estel observing the trinket, looking at it intently under the light of the torches on the wall. “Please, it is all I have from my family, please...”

The Dúnedain released it with a frown.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, it is just that… it has been some time since I saw this kind of handicraft belonging to someone so… unusual.”

“Ok, it is just a ring, isn’t it? It s not like it was made by… someone evil, is it?”

“Evil?” It was the first time she saw a real smile gracing Estel’s face. “No, not evil, no. Just… but then, if I ask you to keep your knowledge for yourself, I should be the one to keep my mouth shut to things I’m not certain about yet, don’t you think so?”

            “Hah! And then people say you should not ask things to elves because they say yes and no in the same phrase. The rangers should be included in this category!”

            He chuckled, delighted to see the former tension was over.

            “I was raised by Elrond, the Half-Elven. How could I be any different?”

            “I…”

            Whatever Gwendolin was about to speak was cut short by the hurt Dúnedain’s moan, and Estel left the young woman with not even a glance. It didn’t bother her, she knew he was there to tend one of his people, and really hoped the man would overcome his illness. She had a chance to observe him when Wang was in a kind of trance and she felt completely unwelcome to Chao’s cot surroundings. Besides the Sun-Cheng young shaman and the elderly Dúnedain, the room she was in contained a black haired dwarf who had his arm cut to the bone and had to be knocked out with a potion to keep him from strolling out of the Healing House and a man that looked disturbingly familiar, although with a wide bandage around his head making it difficult to recognize the swollen face.

            The human woman was looking absently at the two cots, trying to cleanse her mind from all the information she just gathered unwillingly, feeling it was not the moment to stay close to Chao and her father, nor close to Estel and his wounded companion, so she looked from dwarf to man and from man back to dwarf, just to keep her eyes occupied as her mind wandered. She was straightening an imaginary crease in the dwarf’s sheet when a voice behind her made her jump.

            “They said the place Erú granted us in the afterlife was to be envied even by the elves, and now I know it is true. Are all ye maier golden like a sunrise?”

            Gwendoling turned around and faced the man who was unconscious just a moment before.

            “How are you feeling? I can fetch mister Óin or one the healers, are you in pain?”

            The man touched his head with a hand, feeling the bandage and wincing at something that didn’t suit him well.

            “So, I’m alive? They never said the trainee program would be so tough.” His hand fell back on the sheets, and only then Gwendolin grasped who was the human who laid there.

            “Ulfir?”

            He squeezed his eyes to look at her.

            “Do you know me?”

            “Of course I do, we…” She shut her mouth when she realized that maybe he really didn’t remember her and decided to make it simple. If he was of the kind that didn’t care about a person he talked to for hours long, it would not be her to make him get embarrassed. After all, she heard the queen say that if she wanted to find a pretty girl, she should look after him first. Probably, a hint that he was not someone who would take interest in any girl for real. “We met at a banquet, kind of a forthnight ago.”

“A banquet…” He shut his eyes tightly, as if trying to find something inside his eyelids that was not possibleto figure out with open eyes. “I hope I was a good company?”

“Yeah… Don’t you remember?”

“I don’t know…” He licked his dry lips and looked back at her. “Can you fetch me some water, please? I’m thirsty.”

“Yeah, sure.” The blonde went to the corner of the room where she knew the healers left things to tend the wounded and poured water in a tin can. The Sun-Cheng were silent, as was the black-haired dwarf, and Estel spoke quietly to the semi-conscious Dúnedain in a language Gwendolin couldn’t understand, but that seemed alike o what she heard here and there in Thranduil’s halls. She came back and left the can on the side table to help him to sit up with the helpof some pillows and make it easier for him to drink.

“Thank you.” Ulfir said after taking a few sips. “How long have I been knocked out?”

The woman pondered that she didn’t know how long he had been off in the battle ground, but probably any estimated answer would suffice him.

“We’re back into the Mountain for a couple of hours already.”

Ulfir touched the bandage around his head again, wincing as he found a wide patch that hurt a lot.

“Are there any brains left?”

She laughed quietly.

“I don’t know, I was helping with other people, it was Master Óin himself to sew you.”

He pouted.

“I must have been bad company at the banquet, if you didn’t want to sew me.” He took the can again and drank some more. “You said we’re back into the Mountain for a couple of hours; where were we?”

Gwendolin frowned.

“You really don’t remember, do you? It was a mighty battle against the orcs. They intended to ambush the people at the wedding but the ravens found out they were coming and a ‘ _surprise_ ’ was prepared for them.”

The man squeezed his eyes shut.

“I don’t think I can remember it right now; Master Óin must have taken that part of my brain out.”

A pair of arguing but hushed voices came from the corridor.

“I don’t care if there is a Vala nursing my patients, you cannot storm into the Healing House demanding as if it were a soldiers’ quarter!”

“And I don’t care what you’ll do to replace the woman as long as you release her from duty now.”

“Why are you so interested in her? You yourself dragged her to the dungeons not half a moon ago!”

“Aye, and I was wrong in doing so, as my ‘ _best friend_ ’ Aredhel made very clear. Now, will you release her or must I do it myself?”

The dwarves entered the room and Óin was to signal Gwendolin out when he saw the man awake.

“Ah, glad to have you back in our company, lad!” He turned to the woman. “How long is he awake, lass?”

“Not long. I gave him some water, but he seems to have forgotten quite an amount of things.”

“Yes, yes, this is usual for someone who had a concussion like the one he had. You don’t face a charging orc with a mace and are left unscathed, not if you don’t have a dwarven skull, and even then…” The old healer approached Ulfir with a lantern that had several mirrors positioned so it shed a bright light in just one direction, and pulled his eyelids up, one and then the other. “Ah, good, very good. There seems to be no brain damage. What is your name, lad?”

“Ulfir.”

“Good, very…”

“I told him his name.” The woman intervened and Óin eyed her sharply.

“Not so good.” He turned back to is patient. “Whom do you hail?”

“King Bard the Bowman, of Dale, in allegiance to King Kíli Elvenblood Under the Mountain.”

“Now, that’s good indeed, if you know it by yourself.” Óin pointed Dwalin with his thumb. “And who is that?”

“General Dwalin son of Fundin, my superior during my trainee program.”

“Excelent! Long term memoriey in order. Now, what was your last duty turn before the battle?”

“Which battle?”

“Hmm. When was your last duty-free day?”

The young mand frowned under the bandages.

“I don’t remember.”

Dwalin took the matter I his hands.

“Where did we take an ale last time, lad?”

Pursing his lips as he fought for a memory that kept playing hide-and-seek with him, Ulfir let out a sigh of relief when he got it.

“It was at Krein’s, and you complained that the meat was overdone and the chips were not crispy enough.”

“Settled. That was two days before the Earthlings arrived, Óin, if this is the information you want. Now, release the girl.”

“The Earthlings arrived?” Ulfir turned to Gwendolin. “That’s good news, soon you’ll enjoy Durin’s Day Festival, it is magnificent, you can’t miss it, lady… I’m supposed to know your name, am I not?”

“Gwendolin. The name is Gwendolin Browne.”

“Ah. Gwendolin.”

He rolled the name in his tongue as if to taste it’s sound.

“And if we keep talking here to our deaths she sure will miss what is left of it. Come, Gwen, Aredhel has asked me to find you, and to find you I did. Now, up to the party.”

“Aredhel asked for me? Why?”

“So you don’t miss the party. All warriors able are to attend to the King’s tables and you have been missed.”

Ulfir’s eyes widened in admiration.

“So, the golden Maie is also a fighter? What could be more perfect?”

“No, I’m not, I…”

“Hush, Ulfir, you’re not even able to stand on your feet, keep your _hunting skills_ down, right?” After scolding his soldier, Dwalin turned to the woman. “And yes, of course you are, and you made your first kill today. It has to be celebrated.”

“No, I just…” Gwendolin still tried to protest. “I was just defending Ferumbras, it doesn’t make me a warrior! Anyone would have done the same.”

Dwalin shook his head, helpless.

“No, Gwen, not anyone would have beheaded an orc with a hunting knife in a single move in the first try. And your teacher wants to drink your health for it. Come.”

 


	47. A Banquet of Victory and Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the late update, Easter means a lot of things to do when all your family comes to your house to celebrate it (not that I regret it, it was a lot of fun).
> 
> I thank all you wonderful readers for you reviews, follows and favorites, Kim makes puppy eyes and hugs Radagast's rabbits every time you write us!
> 
> “I See Fire” lyrics belong to Ed Sheeran and one line of it has been slightly changed to fit this fic.
> 
> Age sumary:
> 
> Aredhel: Elf from Rivendel; Adult elf  
> Arwen: Daughter of Elrond; Adult elf  
> Crîck: Daughter of Rärc; Raven age 15; H.A. 22  
> Culuin: Elf from Rivendel; Adult elf  
> Difur and Dibur: Twin sons of Bombur; D.A. 14; H.A. 9  
> Elenarion: Elf from Lórien; Adult elf  
> Elladan: Son of Elrond; Adult elf  
> Ellen: Sister of Wolfram, aunt of Lily and Iris, wife of Kíli; E.A. adult; H.A. 35  
> Elrohir: Son of Elrond; Adult elf  
> Estel: Aragorn; H.A. 38  
> Figwit: Elf from Rivendel; Adult elf  
> Fíli: Fourth child of Kíli, his third son; D.A. 10; H.A. 7  
> Firc : Daughter of Bofur; D.A. 16; H.A. 10  
> Frérin: Second son of Kíli; D.A. 21; H.A. 12  
> Haldir: Elf from Lórien; Adult elf  
> Iris: Daughter of Wolfram, sister of Lily, niece of Ellen, bethroted to Bilbo; Ho.A. 34; H.A. 20  
> Kim: Fifth child of Kíli, his second daughter; D.A. 4; H.A. 3  
> Lily: Daughter of Wolfram, sister of Iris, niece of Ellen; D.A. 74; H.A. 25  
> Rori son of Ori 13: Son of Ori; D.A. 13; H.A. 9  
> Thorin "Knee": Firstborn son of Kíli and Ellen; D.A. 26; H.A. 14  
> Wolfram: Brother of Ellen and father of Lily and Iris; H.A. 49  
> Zifur : Son of Bofur; D.A. 10; H.A. 7

Too tired to talk, Ellen kept quiet and observed the people in the feasting hall. She would not be rude and leave the place before Durin’s Day Festival was over, but so she hoped to ease her headache.

She noticed that Figwit was making an effort to keep Elrond’s twins occupied in a corner of the hall as Arwen tried to mingle herself with the crowd, what was quite a feat, considering how tall she was and how outstandind in a multitude composed primarily by dwarves and a small amount of menfolk. Pillars were a magnificent thing, she thought, recalling behind how many of them she herself and Kíli hid behind along their long year of bethrotal, playing cat and mouse with her adoptive brothers. No doubt there should be someone who had Arwen’s favour but not her family’s yet, and she wondered who.

If it were one of the two who escorted her since Lórien, they could certainly wait for any other occasion instead of risking being seen by her brothers. That counted both Haldir and Elenarion out of the race. Figwit himself was keeping Elladan and Elrohir busied right now, and she wondered where in Mahal’s name he got the torches he was currently tossing into the air and catching back in the most ridiculous positions possible, amusing not only his targets but a good amount of cheering rangers too.

Culuin was an option, as she knew the sympathetic forest green eyed elf had been a close friend to Arwen for all the time she dwelt in Imladris. She recalled both were quite close when she herself plus her two eldest sons lived there for half a year, so she could train her mind skills. But where was Culuin and his silvery hair right now? Not near Arwen, as much as Ellen could see.

No, he was drinking with Aredhel, as were Haldir and Elenarion. Poor Haldir, seemed to be unaware that he could not offer what Aredhel might want, and, anyway, Ellen really doubted Aredhel was in need or want of any kind of affair right now, not so shortly after losing her wife. One doesn’t forget a two thousand years relationship in a moon or two, that if she would ever overcome it at all. Not that Legolas understood it, as he was being kept in the dark about what was about his aunt and Dwalin, to everyone’s but his own amusement.

So, what elf was left to be considered an interesting company for Arwen? The dark purple of her gown gave her away behind an ale keg, and beside her stood…

“Now I’m imagining things, I wonder.”

Ellen spoke quietly to herself as she recognized the dar hair and the worn boots. The unconspicous ranger of the north gave place to someone else, someone bolder, whose proud stance gave out a maturity beyond his years, and the adoring gaze with wich he beheld the daughter of Elrond made it obvious to whom his heart belonged.

One of the other rangers came to Estel and spoke quietly to him, to what he excused himself from Arwen and left the place. Ellen coul see Arwen’s eyes longing after him, and then back to Middle-Earth.

With an almost imperceptible shake of her head, Arwen left her hiding place and headed back to the High Table, where all foreign guests were bestowed. Accepting with a graceful smile a goblet of wine form a waiter, she found a place close to the hosting elf.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself, dear, even when it is not quite usual to reach a kingdom for a party and to be greeted with a battle.”

Arwen graced her with one of her beautiful smiles.

“Anything we can do to mess with orc plans is to be enjoyed, Ellen. And the more of them I take down, the happier I’ll be.”

The lust for orc blood in her words was disturbingly unmatched by her perfect and peaceful face.

“You really abhor them, don’t you?”  
            Arwen took a sip of her wine, eyes lost on the crowd.

“They broke my mother. Not even my father was able to cure her. How should I _not_ abhor them?”

Ellen nodded in acquiescence and drank some ale herself. Since Earth she was not one for strong beverages, and even wine made her queasy sometimes. All the stress from the previous days, since the finding out of the Bestiary, plus the news the ravens brought the following day, wasn’t helping, either. An icy ale would have to do.

“How is Lady Galadriel faring? You and I barely had time to talk yesternight, tell me about her.”

Her phrase had the desired effect of bringing a real smile back to Arwen’s lips.

“Grandma is fine. Always worrying about the future but never forgetting to pay attention to the present. She sends you her greetings and asks when will you be able to visit Lórien.”

Ellen snorted, quite unqueenly.

“If even the Lady of the Mirror is not able to tell by herself, you can be sure I don’t, dear! When I visited your father I had only Knee and Frérin to worry about, and you remember the mayhem it was. Now, with a whole bunch of dwelflings, Elbereth knows when I’ll have some life for myself!”

“But you say it with a smile in your lips and in your eyes.”

Both elves’ eyes followed a stream of running dwarflings running around the hall, accompanied by a large brown rabbit.

“How could I not? They are blessings beyond measure.”

The elven princess gazed at her friend with a curious, serious look.

“But you’ll have to leave them someday. When your husband…”

“I know.” Ellen heaved a sigh. “But they will be fine. They’ll have their own lives to live, their own adventures to tell their children and grandchildren, and… And when Kíli goes, I’ll go too. All I hope is that I’ll be allowed to rest my soul in the same Hall of Mandos as him, else afterlife will be absolutely boring!”

“And don’t you… didn’t you ever regret? The choice you made?”

A strange smile graces the queen’s lips, and a shine like that of stars played in her eyes as she looked directly to Arwen.

“Never. Not for a minute. I’d rather live one life with Kíli than all the Ages of Middle-Earth without him.” Arwen looked at the corner where Figwit was currently walking on his hands, amusing her brothers, and her friend noticed it. “Of course I miss my family, and the friends I left behind. But every choice we make in life has a gain and a loss. I don’t think your ancestor regreted her choice for Beren.”

“Lúthen was a brave.”

“And so are you, dear.”

The song the band was playing on the stage stopped and the following silence caught their attention. A dwarf with a funny hat stood upon it, a serious face that didn’t fit him well and uplifted hands to make people pay attention to him. In some minutes it worked and he begun to speak.

“Ladies and Gentledwarves, and every kind of guest the Kingdom of Erebor has the honour to have attending to the twentieth-seventh Durin’s Day Festival after the Retake and the Battle of Five Armies, I pray for yer attention!”

The sudden silence of the music had been replaced by Bofur’s commanding voice as Marshal of the festival. Everybody heeded his words and waited in antecipation.

“Today was expected to be a day of joy and merriment. Everything was ready for it. We had the presence of several friends and allies, old and new, and all surviving members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. We had every citizen of this Mountain with their hearts set to thank our Maker for the Awakening of our forefather Durin the Dethless. But is was not our lot to have peace this day, as ye all know.”

“The enemy came, treacherously, believing we would fall prey to their schemes. The orcs of Gundabad tried to defile our sacred festival. But Durin’s folk is a tough folk, and our friends and allies are loyal and dour. The Battle of The Wheat Fields was won. Erebor is ours.”

There were some tentative cheers, but everybody knew the victory had not been without a price. The High Priest of Mahal replaced the abnormaly serious Bofur on the stage. His salt-and-pepper beard held an assortment of black beads that matched the sorrowful task he had at hand.

“Mahal the Maker heed our plea.”

“ _Heed our plea_.”

Every dwarf present answered the priest, joining in the simple ceremony that would be held, much more simple than the one to be held at the burial.

            “Mahal the Maker receive in thee mighty halls the souls of our brothers.”

            “ _Receive their souls_.”

            “Námo the Judge be compassive and give our brothers their rest.”

            “ _Let our brothers rest_.”

            “Mahal the Maker reforge in thee fires the souls of our brothers.”

            “ _Reforge their souls_.”

            “Mahal the Maker heed our plea.”

            “ _Heed our plea_.”

The priest unrolled a parchment and began to read the names of the deceased ones.

“The People of Durin hail their fallen: Troni son of Voni!”

“ _Hail_!”

“Baldur son of Baldor!”

“ _Hail_!”

“Nónnar son of Rónnar!”

“ _Hail_!”

To every name the crowd answered with a loud ‘Hail!’ and it was not unusual to see family and closer friends to raise a cup in homage. Many were surprised when the priest added the names of the fallen of the other races to the list as well, but it made Wolfram to break protocol and run to the stage to demand a quiet word with the priest. The dwarf acquiesced and the man headed back to the High Table beside his sister. The priest finished his list with the name of ‘Sun-Cheng Wu Ping’

“What was that?”

Ellen asked her brother, sensing it strange that Chang was not mentioned by his name.

“The Sun-Cheng have a taboo about their names, when one of them dies the name is not spoken nor given to a baby for five years long, else the spirit won’t follow the Lights of the North to his resting place.”

“So, you just avoided an international incident, huh?”

“Quite so.”

The priest held a hammer high in both hands and prayed, finishing the cerimonial.

“ _Oh, mystic eye of the Mountain of stone,_

 _K_ _eep careful watch of my brothers' souls_

 _And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke  
Keep watching over Durin's sons_!”

The salt-and-pepper bearded priest lowered the hammer and left the stage, Bofur stepping up again.

“Dear fellows, I am sure the ones who sacrificed today in the defence of our kingdom would rejoice in our joy; so, I invite some laddies and lassies who have been working hard along the last weeks to provide us a show that will sure bring smiles to our faces. I beg you to understand if they ain’t able to speak aloud enough for everybody to hear them, but they rehearsed hard and will make their best to be understood. Ladies and Gentledwarves, please welcome the Young Company of Thorin Oakenshield!”

To their own parents’ surprise, a band of dwarflings made their way to the stage, where a barefooted Kim in trousers had been hiding behind Bofur. Lyn wore a grey mantle and a pointed hat and walked to her sister with Knee, who had an axe in his hand.

Kim had an unlighted pipe in her hand and pretended to smoke, sitting on the edge of the stage. Knee knocked the hilt of the axe on the floor and Kim stood up.

“Who are you and why are you in _Kee’s_ hobbit hole?”

The little girl was almost shouting, and so worried about being heard that skipped the fact that she was performing someone else. Knee whispered something in her ear and the dwelfling corrected herself the best she could.

“Ooops! In _Mi’ter_ Bilbo’s hobbit hole!”

Lyn stepped forward and bowed low, losing her hat.

“I am Gandalf the Grey and this is Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our Company. We are hiring you as our burglar.”

“He looks more like a grocer than like a burglar.”

It was Knee to mark presence with his grand-uncle’s words. Lyn retrieved her hat back and faced him.

“If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!”

Fíli wore a white wig made of cotton fabric stripes and handled Kim a sheet of paper and then all the small band made to walk away, rounding the stage. When the last member of the ‘ _Young Company_ ’ was a couple of yards away from her, Kim pretended to run after them, weaving the paper high in the air.

“I’m going to adventure!”

As they rounded the stage Kim outpaced them, to be met by Dibur, one of Bombur’s twins, with an old overcoat whose hood covered his face and had an ugly face painted on it.

“Ho, ho, ho, I’m a troll and I’ll cook the hobbit!”

Kim squirmed in Dibur’s arms and was surrounded by the other dwarflings, who brandished every kind of weapon.

“I hope they are wooden…”

Ellen couldn’t keep from whispering to Kíli, who whispered back.

“It depends on who had the idea of this spectacle…”

The bunch of little warriors overthrew the troll and then Knee, Lyn and Kim retrieved swords from beneath Dibur.

“These are elvish blades, they glow when enemies are close.”

A howl was heard, probably produced by Bofur, cutting Lyn’s explanation on the swords.

“We are being hunted, run!”

As Knee led the pretending-running kids, Lyn got rid of her mantle and hat at a corner of the stage, grabbed a sword and came to the front accompanied by Firc, Bofur’s daughter, who held a bow.

“We are lost, Aunt Ellen, what will we do?”

Lyn unfolded a paper and showed her.

“We’ll follow this map, Lily, we may find help in this town.”

Knee and his followers reached them and he took Lyn’s sword to look at it.

“You have a dragonslayer sword, I hire you and your nieces into my Company.”

Iris elbowed Bilbo.

“I feel myself invisible.”

“At least you’re not cross-gendered, sweetheart.”

Zifur stepped forward with a silver circlet on his dark-haired head.

“I’m Elrond the Half-Elven and I offer my help and advice.”

Kim came to his side and pouted.

“I wish I was back in _Kee’s_ hobbit hole!”

None worried about correcting her this time, and when the ‘Company’ walked a little further Difur threw at them what seemed to be a sack of potatoes filled with straw. Frérin with a funny hat made Bofur’s part.

“The stone giants are fighting! Let’s find shelter, and don’t lose the Halfling!”

Knee threw Kim over his shoulder and they played to be walking some more.

“The best I can rate this is as embarrassing!”

“Shh, Bilbo, I want to see what happens next!”

The next scene was even more hilarious because Rori, son of Ori, really didn’t have the gait to play the Gobling King and looked more scared than menacing. This time Firc wore a reddish wig, seemingly made out of fabric strips like the ‘Balin’ wig Fíli wore earlier, and a pair of swords. Rori began to stammer but then took in a deep breath and let out his phrase.

“You don’t have a mountain, Thorin Oakenshield! I will warn the Pale Orc and I will kill the elf puppy!”

Firc came forward and made as if crossing her swords against Rori’s throat.

“Nobody calls me puppy!”

Rori was so dramatic faking his death on the stage that Nori had to hold Dori back to prevent him from stepping into the drama, literally.

Next they had Dibur with his face splashed with powder and a mace in his hand as all the children were heaped on a side of the stage, making as they would fall out of it. Knee stood up and went to him with his troll-hoard sword, and fell down with Dibur’s mace touch. Kim ran to them and hit Dibur in the belly with her blue-painted little sword, and the remaining children got up to help her and tackle Dibur down. Right afterwards they made to fly, flapping their arms as if they were wings, and Knee stood up.

“I doubted you, Bilbo Baggins, and I’ne never been so wrong in all my life!”

Kim had to strain not to jump into her brother’s arms, and just reciprocated his hug.

Next Frérin had Fíli on his shoulders and a woolen coverlet over both of them; Frérin spoke and Fíli made the antics, completely mismatched with Frérin’s voice.

“You are enemies of the goblins, and I will help you. Go through the forest with Beorn’s blessing, but beware of the black river!”

“I don’t recall having blessed anyone in the last, erm, _life_. What do you think about it, hmm?”

The black squirrel didn’t answer the skin-changer in any way recognizable by other people, but the way he scratched behind his ear could be taken as a hint.

Difur was now in his normal garb and stumbled on his own feet, coming down like a pudding on the floor. Frérin, wearing the hat again, put his hands on his head in distress.

“My brother Bombur has fallen into the enchanted river and fell asleep! What will we do now?”

Knee put his hand on Frérin’s shoulder and reassured him.

“We will take turns carrying him; no member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield will ever be left behind!”

After a coordinated work to make Difur to be handled by all the children, save Kim, Knee made to look far away shadowing his eyes with a hand.

“There is the elven kingdom of Thranduil; we will ask him to give us food, because we are starving.”

Tauriel shuddered and Legolas asked what was it, and she answered in a humorous whisper.

“If I hear a dwarf speaking about ‘ _to starve_ ’ once again, I’ll throw myself down the battlement!”

Fíli had some twigs with autumn leaves in his hair, presenting him as the blonde elven king, and he faced his brother with a frown.

“You came armed into my kingdom and have kidnapped an elf; you will be guarded until I’m sure you are not dangerous.”

“I really must take a word or two with whomever wrote this stage-play; what do they mean with _guarded_? We have been made _prisoners_!”

“I know, love, but it took too much work to negotiate peace with Mirkwood to allow the truth to cause a diplomatic incident. Now, hush.”

Kim came out of nowhere with a bunch of keys in her hand, shaking it high in the air, making it tinkle. No word was needed to understand her part as one by one of the children followed her to the next scene.

Zifur had now a long bow in a hand and a paddle in the other.

“The people of Lake-Town welcome you, and we will help you to achieve your goal.”

He handled the oar to Knee, who bowed low and stated.

“Thank you, Bard the Bowman; the friendship of old between Erebor and the people of the Lake will not be wasted.”

Next scene was a surprise, as until now only sons and daughters of the members of the Company had made an appearance in the show, be as hero, friend or enemy. Now it was the grand-daughter of someone who had a decisive part in the story to make her appearance, with red stripes of light silk delicately attached to her wings.

“Crrr! I am fire, I am death! I am Smaug and I won’t let you take my gold!”

Crîc made a flyby over the little actors, almost letting the silk touch their heads. All of them shook their weapons at her, and Zifur pulled the string of the bow as if aiming at her, no arrow nocked. He let go and Crîc spiraled down until she vanished behind a large drum.

Knee turned to the others.

“Find the Arkenstone! It is more important than anything, it is the heart of the Mountain!”

While the others rummaged the stage, Knee sat at a corner and made coins to tinkle in a golden bowl, his back to the others. Lyn with her Gandalf hat came to him, accompanied by Zifur as Bard.

“Thorin Oakenshield, Smaug destroyed Lake-Town, you must help them, they are your friends.”

“No.”

Zifur took a large crystal out of his pocket and showed it to Knee.

“Not even in return for the Arkenstone?”

Knee’s eyes widened in an anger that could almost be believed to be true.

“The Arkenstone is my heirloom! Who gave it to you?”

Kim changed her weight from one foot to the other, scratched her hair and gave a yellow smile.

“Ah, hmm, it was _Mi’ter_ Bilbo!”

Knee took her from the ground in both his hands and nearly shouted.

“This is treason! I should throw you down the battlement!”

Lyn took Kim from Knee and hid the little one behind her.

“If you don’t have use for my burglar, please give him back to me! But beware that there is an army of orcs and goblins coming to attack the Mountain, and you will need friends to fight them!”

Bilbo ran his hand through his hair, visibly distressed.

“Hey, it is just a show, ok?”

“I know, Iris, but even so it unnerves me. It is almost as if I were hearing Thorin himself saying those things to me again.”

Lyn, Kim and Zifur stomped to the other side of the stage as Knee sat down again to play with the coins. By now Firc was again without the red wig and came to him pouting.

“Thorin, come back to the Company, you have the Gold Sickness!”

Knee stood up, leaving the bowl with the coins on the stage and kicking it away.

“Love is stronger than the Gold Sickness. I give up the gold for the love of my bride and the friendship of my loyal companions. I will help to rebuild both Lake-Town and Dale.

Dibur came back with his face white with powder, brandishing a mace. Knee fell down and Fíli came running to him.

“I must protect uncle Thorin!”

Dibur brandished the mace again and Fíli fell down atop Knee. Now it was Frérin, with a bow in his hand, to come running.

“Nooo! Uncle Thorin is wounded and my brother Fíli is dead!”

Frérin fell down over them under Dibur’s mace and Fíli groaned, making his supposed death even more unbelievable. The other children overthrew Dibur and Lyn, without her grey garments, came to the heap of fallen warriors with pleading eyes to the roof.

“Nooo! Kíli is dead! Mahal, I offer my own blood to save him, and I make the Choice of Lúthien!”

Frérin stood up and Fíli was dragged from over Knee. Firc was playing Lily again and held his head on her lap. Kim knelt beside her brother, who took her hands in his.

“Farewell, my good burglar! I go now to the Halls of Waiting, where I will not be ashamed to be in the presence of my forefathers. If food and cheer and song were valued more than treasures and gold, this word would be merrier.”

“Bye-bye, _Mi’ter_ Thorin! _Mi’ter_ Bilbo is very sad!”

Knee turned his head to Frérin and Lyn, who were on his other side.

“Kíli, tell your mother I love her, and to forgive me for Fíli.”

“I will.”

“These little rascals are making me cry!”

Kíli brought Ellen closer with his arm around her shoulders but said nothing. The knot in his throat was not easier to hold back than her tears.

“What do we do now?” Lyn asked Frérin.

“Now we rebuild Erebor and bring back the People of Dúrin. The Longbeards will be a wealthy folk again, and we will have peace and friendship with all our neighbours. Children will be cared for, adults will work in their crafts, and the elderly will be respected. Everyone will have enough to spare and to share, everyone will live a dignified life. Once again, Erebor will be called the mightiest dwarf kingdom of Middle-Earth!”

As Frérin spoke, the ‘living’ members of the Young Company gathered around him and when he finished, they all bowed low. All people in the banquet hall clapped and cheered them, and in the second time they bowed Knee was in the middle of them with Crîc on his shoulder. The ear-to-ear smiles of the children were priceless, and their parents were bursting with pride. It had been a day of fight, and of victory, and of loss; and now those dwarflings came and showed it was also a day of joy and of hope. The People of Durin would not be so easily broken.

 


	48. Still a Banquet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, I'm sorry for the delay and for the short chapter, but lots of work may explain it and make you forgive me.
> 
> This chapter may look so but it is not a filler, there is important information in it that will make things clear in the future.
> 
> Next chapter I promise you Bilbo's wedding, no orc ride this time, but still there will be a surprise.
> 
> I thank all my followers and reviewers, you are truly awesome!

The little actors thanked the applauding people one more time and dispersed, running eagerly to their relatives. The musicians started a vivid dancing song and most partakers took their chance to enjoy themselves. Dís found herself embraced by her first grandson, who carried the name and the sapphire blue eyes of her deceased brother.

"Did I do well, Grandma? Did I make Grand Uncle justice?"

"You surely did, my little Thorin, my pride!"

"I was so afraid I would fail, and, and…"

With wet eyes, the mature dwarrowdam cupped his face and touched their foreheads.

"You were so perfect I could almost mistake you for my brother."

With a slow and painful movement, Knee lowered his eyes and face, as if her statement ashamed him.

"It is not true, I don't have a beard!"

Dís run her fingers through his raven black mane to make him look at her again, and her shining orbs found his and mesmerized them there.

"Neither did he have pointy ears, darling; but what I saw was the same determination, the same courage, loyalty and stubbornness that I've known all my life. Your name was well chosen, little one. Very well chosen."

-xxx-

Dori was radiating around Rori, praising his ability to not stammer after he really begun his phrase.

"This lad is a talent!"

Something un-understandable was the only shy answer.

"Rori must have rehearsed a lot, didn't you, son?"

Another mumble and Nori took the matter in his hands.

"Aye, he did. I made him to."

"Did you know it all the time?

"Of course, don't forget _my_ job is to gather information."

"But why didn't you tell us? I could have helped with it, I would dedicate myself to make this presentation…"

"Don't worry yourself, Dori, it was meant to be a surprise, and everybody knows how good you are at keeping secrets."

"What do you mean with this?"

"Oh, nothing, really. Here, have more wine…"

-xxx-

"I must say I was impressed by the dexterity of these kids to play so many characters! Awesome!"

Bofur smiled brightly at the praise Wolfram bestowed on his own children and his nephews.

"Aye, that was a surprise for us, too. We tried to make the story the most simple possible, but there were too much characters for too few actors, and when we noticed it, these brats were doubling, triplicating and even quadruplicating roles. Amazing lads, I won't sell _any_ of them anymore!"

"Adad!"

An angry Firc let go her father's hug to scold him with her hands on her hips.

"You made a pretty hobbit lass, Firc, it made me really afraid that you would behead Rori with those swords."

Firc beamed at Iris' compliment, forgetting her anger immediately.

"Ah, well, we almost had an accident or two during the rehearsals, but…"

"But everything went fine, no one has not even a scar to proof there was any accident, has?"

"No, Adad."

"So, no accidents! If nothing was broken and nothing was stitched, then nothing happened, that's what I say!"

The Earthlings laughed with the Urs, and Bombur approached the green wizard with a grin.

"Mister Wolfram, I want to ask you a favour, and you too, Lady Iris, if you don't mind."

"What would it be, Master Bombur? Anything in our reach, always."

The red bearded dwarf moved in his seat, uneasy, and fidgeted, trying to find the right words.

"You see, Mister Wolfram, me and Dahl were thinking… our little girl's Naming Day is coming, and we would like to have someone significant to say some words. Of course we have a lot of friends, and it would be an honor to have any of the Company to say her name, but… but it would make us very happy to have you to speak for her in the Naming Day."

Wolfram was in shock. He knew every culture had its owns habits on introducing a new member to the community, but to be called to be a part in it, in a culture he didn't exactly have much information…

"I would be proud to! But, I don't know your usages, I don't know what would be fit for the occasion…"

"Don't worry! Anything you say will be fine, I'm sure!" Bombur turned to the hobbit lass. "And, Lady Iris… We will never forget what you did. Never! And to help us to remember you, and to show everyone how much we praise you…"

"Bombur, it is not necessary, not really!"

"But yes, it is! For us, for me and Dahl, it is! And we want to make it known, to everyone who comes to know our little girl. So, would you mind if… if we borrowed your name? We dwarves use to name our women with a single vowel name, and yours has two, so… would you be angry if we name her ' _Rís_ '? Would it be offensive to you in any way?"

Iris was abashed, feeling her cheeks turn to a vivid shade of red, and jumped into the round dwarf's arms.

"Angry? Offended? Dear me, Bombur, of course not! I will explode with pride!"

-xxx-

Kim found a comfortable place in her mother's lap and stuck a thumb in her mouth, making herself ready to sleep. Leri was quick in handling her a pair of socks to warm the little dwelf's feet, as it was autumn and the chill of the night crept into the Mountain despite the fire in the many harts lightened in the wide hall.

"Thank you, Leri! I really don't know what I would do if it weren't for you!"

"Probably to get insane, Milady, but I'm not the only babysitter in Erebor, you know."

"But you're the only one with patience enough, I'm sure!"

The miniature of Kíli with sapphire eyes found a seat at his mother's side, granting in her shoulder the warmth his younger sister found in her lap.

"Frérin! You made a perfect Kíli, do you know?"

"That was easy, Amad! And it all was so much fun, the Beorn's scene was hard to play without laughing!"

"Now I understand why you lot were sleeping earlier. Gathering strength for the play, huh?"

"Aye, Knee made us rest, even if we wanted to have more fun at the festival."

"And that, after everything you've done at Mister Bofur's house…"

"Mister Leri!" Frérin complained.

"Leri, I'm sure you more than deserve to rest. By the way, you should not even be working tonight, dear, go enjoy yourself!"

"Ah, but I was not babysitting, Lady Ellen, I was helping with the presentation… Be sure I enjoyed myself quite a lot."

"All right, take your time, dear, but I don't want to see your face until the real wedding day, dealt?"

A look of disappointment stuck in the dwarf's face.

"But, but…"

"Of course you can stay as long as you wish at the Festival, dear, but, come on, you _must_ have some life outside the nursery. It is not healthy to live twenty-four/seven for just one goal in life."

"But, but… what if the children want to go to the hobbits tomorrow? Who will take them? Milady is too busy with the preparations for the wedding, and…"

"Come on, Mister Leri, we know the way around the palace with our eyes shut!"

"Aye, but…" Leri heaved a sigh at Frérin's remark. "But what if Kim gets sleepy or moody and someone must take her back home?"

"Leri, you're not having rest for so a long time I don't even know how long. When was the last time you had an outing?"

"Well, two nights ago I went to Trenkin's and had a sandwich and chips, it was a nice outing."

"Hmm. With whom?"

"Ahm, Frérin and Knee…"

"So, it doesn't count, you probably spent more time keeping them out of trouble than enjoying yourself."

"Amad!"

Frérin was indignant, which only made Ellen sure she was right.

"Ah, well, some days ago I had an ale at The Tumbled Chair, and I had no youngling with me!"

"So, it sounds better. And in whose company was it? I know you, Leri, you are not one to go alone to an inn."

Leri blushed slightly beneath his light brown beard.

"Erm, I went with some of the hobbits."

"Yep, they are good folk to have around."

"Aye, they are so different from us, and yet…"

"Yes?"

The babysitter's blush got redder and showed through.

"Ah, erm, nothing, Milady, nothing…"

Ellen's right hand left Kim's shoulder to punch him lightly in the chest.

"Come on, dear, I know the signs of a dwarf in love…"

"Milady!"

Fíli ran straight into Kìli's arms and buried his face in the dark locks of his father, who embraced him tight. To his surprise, his blond son was trembling, and it could not be blamed to the cold.

"Fíli, son, what's wrong? Hrm?"  
His soft murmur only made the youngling to grab his tunic harder and start to cry. Kíli caressed his golden hair and tried to make the child to look at him.

"Hey, Fee, it is all right, it all right now… Erebor is ours, we are all safe…"

Fíli shook his head vividly, and sobbed even more.

"No, we're not, Dada, he is dead, he is dead…"

"Who is dead, son? We are all here, it was just a theatre presentation, it was not true, we are all here."

"No, we're not!" This time Fíli swallowed his tears and faced his father with hard, tearful eyes. "Thorin is dead, Dada, I don't want Thorin to be dead, I don't want!"

' _Maybe Fíli is too young for that much of emotion_.' Kíli thought to himself but didn't mention it to his son.

"Knee is all right, Fíli, look, he is over there with Grandma."

"I said _Thorin_ , Adad! _Thorin_ is dead, can't you see? Thorin is dead and I could not save him!"

A fresh wave of sobs made its way to Fíli's throat and he buried his face in Kíli's shoulder once again.

"Hush, Fee, hush…"

"I don't want Thorin to be dead, Adad…"

"Fíli, hear me. Uncle Thorin… your granduncle Thorin died the death of a warrior, of a mighty king. Nobody wants him to be dead, son, but the Maker requested Námo to make mighty Halls of Waiting in Mandos for us dwarves, and he will be there, waiting for us, do you understand?"

The dwelfling nodded, but complained all the same.

"I wish Thorin was alive…" An idea sparkled in his mind. "Adad, what if I wish Thorin to be alive very, very much? Can't Mandos send him back to us?"

"Fíli, it…"

"He sent you back when Mama asked, why can't he send Thorin back to us too?"

"Fee…" That was a sensible question, and it was hard to answer it without shaking a child's beliefs. "It is not our choice who stays and who goes away… we don't know why I came back, but…" It was his time to feel warm tears to roll down his cheeks. "…but I wish I had Uncle Thorin back, too, and my brother Fíli..."

-xxx-

The dark haired brat found her way into her uncle's lap and stole the pork crackling he had in his hand, stuffing it into her mouth like if she hadn't had a meal in the last two days. Dwalin laughed at it, motioning to Aredhel that the girl was just like him. Gwendolin smiled behind her wine goblet, slowly becoming at easy around the warriors, after all. She herself and half a dozen dwarves more had been praised for their first kills, what made her uneasy at first, but when she settled in her heart that it was the orcs or her, or Ferumbras, it slowly became easier. Although, Aredhel didn't have a proper smile, but she never did. On the other hand, the dwelfling made the human woman to smile, reminding her of how she herself searched eagerly for adult companionship when she lived at the orphanage and was already aware that it was very difficult, not to say impossible, to be adopted.

"Hrmm, qmmum huhuh?"

Balin held his temples with a thumb and a forefinger and shook his head for the umptenth time

"Aye, lovely, you were perfect, but…"

"Hrmrmrmrm?"

"But I didn't see any sign of your uncle Dwalin here!"

Lyn swallowed the rest of the pork crackling and grasped for air.

"But, Uncle!" She diverged her eyes from her uncle to grab a chicken leg, that she used as a pointer to reinforce her statements. "We were just ten lads and lassies and a raven to play how many? The whole Company and everyone you found along the way!"

"Aye, that was a feat, I must concede."

"And then, we tried to play everyone, but we couldn't make it too long, the little ones would not be able to."

Dwalin ruffled her hair affectionately.

"And you are very big, hrm?"

"Of course I am, only Firc and my bros are older than me!"

Gwendolin tried a suggestion.

"You could use more actors, it would be easier."

"Aye, it would, but Bombur's daughter is still a baby and there are _some_ dwarves in here that don't even take a wife for me to have an aunt, what to say to have some babies for me to have cousins!"

Balin muffled his laughter as Dwalin choked on his ale, to the amusement of everyone at hearing distance. Once recovered from the fit, the warrior made his best lecturing face.

"It seems the Maker didn't bother to make a One for me; and then, who would want to marry someone who is at risk of not coming back home every time he gets out to work? Such is the nature of my job."

"But if it were true, then no warrior would ever marry, Uncle!"

"Ah, well…"

"Forget it, laddie, our little Lyn here has got _my_ wits, not yours."

"You must see her in the training arena, brother, then you'll see _who_ she takes after!"

Gwendolin watched the affectionate banter of the Fundin sons. Having lived in the royal house for the last few weeks had granted her a lot of it. After the first impression, she found out the grim faced dwarf had a heart of gold, especially when dealing with his nephews, and that his Santa Claus looking brother could be stern and austere when the need called. Musing on it she didn't notice the messmate that just came closer to them and took a seat beside her.

"Miss Gwendolin Browne, I presume?"

She turned to the man with a gasp of surprise.

"Mister Gandalf? Gandalf the Grey?" The wizard nodded at her with amused eyes. "Dear Lord, I can't believe I'm really in front of the guy of the staff of twiggy thingies!"

"The staff of _what_?"

"You know, the…" Then she brought her forearms up with the back of hands together, pointing the fingers upward and spread in a circle; she wiggled her fingers and completed in an ominous sounding voice. "... _staff of many twiggy thingies_."

Gandalf laughed out loud at her description of his tool.

"I've been given several names in the long roads I have taken since I came to Middle-Earth, but _this_ is a new one!"

"Ok, I know Radagast has a staff of many twiggy thingies too, and that the white one will be quite well designed, but…"

Perceiving her own slip of tongue Gwendolin covered her mouth with both hands and looked panicked. Gandalf looked gravely at her, not a shadow of the previous laughter present anymore.

"We have to talk, Miss Browne. But not today, and not in the presence of so many. Probably only after the wedding. For now, whatever is your knowledge, keep it secret."

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Enjoy the banquet, I've heard you earned it well."

Feeling she had lost a chance to get in the good graces of the most powerful wizard she knew about, Gwendolin fidgeted and watched him rise from his seat and walk away. She was brought back from her discomfort by Aredhel dropping a new goblet of wine in front of her.

"You heard him. Enjoy. It is not wise to counter a wizard."


	49. A Hobbit Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I thank you very much for your kudos, and more than anything for reading; a story that is not read is a jewel embarrassed to shine, thank you once more for all your support!  
> I would like to work a little further in this chapter, but it is getting late and I promised a weeding this week, so the end of the party will have to wait a bit, but there will even be a M-rated chapter to compensate for the delay.  
> Most of the wedding rites were borrowed from ancient traditions of knot-tying and a Cherokee blessing, plus some of my own imagination, I hope you enjoy it all.

The day after Durin’s Day was full of activity around the Lonely Mountain. To the east, the orc corpses were burnt and the damages to the land were mended the best they could. Wolfram’s weeds would have to be removed if anyone were to walk through those woods again, but the lianas were especially resistant both to blade and to fire.

To the west, a patch of land that had its tree cut down the previous year and was currently covered in green grass had been chosed to prepare the wedding place. White tent roofs were fixed in the trunks and decorated with colourful ribbons. A nearby creek provided a calming sound along with the chirp of birds. A day for the warriors to rest from the fight, to recover from grief, and to prepare for mirth.

The group of three wizards was guided to the main healing house soon in the morning, to see what was in their reach to do. The Sun-Cheng shaman was there, cross-legged on a cushion beside his ‘ _son_ ’ _s_ ’ cot. Gwendolin had come earlier to change the dressings on the large wound and lingered around, helping Óin with the other patients.

“I don’t need to stay bed-ridden, it was just a scratch!”

“Master Bliren, this gash is just a scratch as I am a grasshopper; so, stay quiet while we tend you or I’ll have to tie you down on the cot.”

“Humpf. Not a scratch, then, but not enough to make such a fuss. See, that Human over there has half his torso wrapped in bandages, he is in much worse condition than me.”

“Aye, he had half of his ribs broken, it is a miracle that he is alive at all. But you, my lad, were almost disarmed, if you take my meaning, and I’ll keep you here for as long as I believe is necessary.”

Following Óin’s nod, the woman poured certain potion in the dark-haired dwarf’s can and made him drink. Five minutes later he dozed off, still muttering things about ‘just a scratch’.

The wizard trio stopped a few paces from the shaman, respectfully waiting for him to acknowledge their presence. After some minutes of nothing happening, the green one looked at his fellows, questioningly.

“I’m aware of your visit, men of magic. Don’t mistake my silence for absence.”

Gandlaf straightened his lips in a line, trying to hide his amusement at Wolfram’s puzzlement. He had said nothing and was out of the shaman’s range of vision.

“Don’t think less of Radagast’s apprentice. He is not used to this kind of life, even if he has already seen a lot.”

Not used to being scolded, the grey wizard humpfed and squared his shoulders.

“We are here to offer you help, Master Wang. Not discrediting your skills, obviously.”

Seeming to have whitened his hair from one day to the other, Wang slowly opened his eyes and conceded them a hurt glance.

“And what help would you be able to offer, Master Wizards? Can you transport us to our land? Can you summon the Light of the North so I can take my son where he can be healed?”

Wolfram frowned at the question, but let the talking to Gandalf.

“Your son is in no condition to travel anywhere. But we heard he struggles like others of the race of Men, whse wounds wouldn’t explain the loss of consciousness.”

“Shi bakun! Chang has no evil spirit maiming his soul. This is not a matter for men of spirit like us, what he needs is a neurologist.”

“What?” This time Wolfram was unable to keep from gasping.

“A neurologist.” Wang’s voice sounded tired. “A medicine man who deals with the brain.”

“I know what a neurologist is, what I don’t know is how _you_ know it!”

With a face that meant something like ‘ _you know nothing, innocent!’_ , Wang distracted himself for a moment from his current predicament.

“Do you believe you are the only one to travel to other worlds? You don’t know the Lights of the North.” He caressed Chao’s brow, but the boy did not stir, as expected. “Or maybe he needs a psychiatrist, as it might be psychosomatic.”

“We are neither, Master Wang; but the wizards of this land have more knowledge than just spiritual stuff.”

“If you want to try to help my son, I would only be glad. His secret is already given out, at least to the young healer-helper. I will never be forgiven, anyway.” He leant down and gently touched the boy’s forehead with his own, unknowingly mimicking the traditional affection gesture the dwarves used to show. “If Chao only knew how much I regret…”

His phrase was cut by a sob, and Gandalf gently touched the man’s shoulder, guiding him a little apart from the cot.

“Are you ready?” Radagast asked his pupil.

“What? Do you mean it is me who should try to help the boy?”

“Of course, why not?”

“Come on, I have no experience with this kind of stuff.”

“Yes? And how do you suppose you’ll acquire any experience if not hand on?”

“Ah, well…”

“And you at least know what that psychi-don’t-know-what talk is about. We may have other name for it, but still… You are a father. Think about the pain of the father that just left our side and tell me if you are willing to try or not.”

Wolfram swallowed and grabbed his staff tightly. Closing his eyes for concentration, he let his right hand hover above the quiet lad’s face and soon began to mumble incomprehensible words. Chao’s eyelids started to tremble like if he were dreaming, and a drop of sweat formed on his brow. The green gem at the top of the staff began to glow.

 

000ooo000

 

It was so cold that Wolfram could feel his lips turning blue, and the blizzard kept him from seeing clearly in any direction. He took in a deep breath and let it out very slowly, sensing some relief as the green light cleared things around a bit. There was a round structure some distance from him, and the blizzard seemed to form atop of it.

“Very clever…”

Holding his staff in front of him, Wolfram entered the iglu, only to find a giant clamshell occupying most of the room. At least the blizzard was outside now and couldn’t distract him anymore.

“Chao.”

He called once, and had no response. He called again, louder this time, but with the same caring tone.

“Chao!”

With no answer again, he insisted despite it, assuming his words would be heard anyway, if the builder of the shell were conscious.

“Chao, please! Get out of there, I want to help you!”

“No! Get away!”

An angry and hurt voice came from inside the shell, somewhat muffled, but causing the wizard to take two steps back because of the intensity of the feels that sided the words.

“Chao Fa Tsui, please!” He came closer to the shell again, almost touching it. “It is dark and cold here, we are worried about you. This is not a good place for you.”

“No! Let me be here, where I can shame no one!”

“Chao, your father…”

“My father hates me! He despises me! I ashamed him and he gave my secret away, he wants me to die!”

“Chao, no… it is not so…”

“Even Liao Wang wants me to die, he did not protect me, he let the woman _see_ me!”

Wolfram grabbed every bit of information to use it in his favor.

“Liao Wang and your father let Gwendolin see you so she could save your life, Chao! Them both have not left your side since!”

“Shi bakun, I’ve been disgraced! I was desecrated, I want to die…”

Chao’s voice turned into angry sobs, and the wizard could almost feel the warmth of the tears through the shell.

“Cha, listen to me. Once you told me you were happy with the life you were given. I don’t know what to be unsanctified means in your culture, but see, you still _have_ your life. Come on, get out of there…”

The sobd subsided a little and part of the shell became clearer, almost translucent.

“I can’t. I am weak, and here I am safe. When our leader knows my secret, they will sacrifice me like I should have been sacrificed when I was born.”

The notion that so young a person lived with the risk of being ‘sacrificed’ on his head stunned Wolfram, but he could not weaver, he had to bring the boy back to consciousness.

“None will tell him your secret, Chao. It is yours to keep.”

“But that blonde woman keeps saying things she shouldn’t she herself told me so!”

Biting his lip and scratching his head, Wolfram didn’t know what to do with that truth. Having Gwendolin living in the same quarters as him and his family gave him opportunity to catch more than one slip of her tongue.

“She will go back to her world soon, I myself will take her there. Your secret will be safe then, whatever it is.”

The shell became clearer still.

“But until then? Who grants me she will be silent about me?”

Wolfram really didn’t know how to anwer this, and searched his mind for any bit of information that could grant to Chao the feeling of safeness he needed to escape his shell. As if answering his thoughts, a howl was heard in the distance.

“Liao Wang can. Tell him to watch her steps, if she ever speaks your name out loud he will thwart it.”

The light inside the shell steadied itself, then started to trembled, unsure.

“And my father? My father is ashamed of me…”

“Chao, your father loves you! Whatever he said to you was in a moment of anger and stress. Forgive him.”

“Me, to forgive _him_? It is _him_ who must forgive _me_! I did wrong, I left him unguarded, I put the healing tent in danger, and I could not even save whom I intended to save…”

Wolfram grabbed his staff more tightly, afraid to lose Chao to the darkness inside the shell again.

“Can you hear what we say out there?”

“No.”

“But you should. You should hear what your father has to say to you. Maybe then you will change your mind.”

“How can I hear him? What should I do?”

“Maybe, the first step is to get out of there. I can hear Liao Wang from here, maybe you’ll be able to hear him, and your father too.”

“I…” The voice was insecure, but the light inside the shell grew brighter. “I’m afraid.”

“I understand. You don’t have to get out there right now, you can stay here safe from the blizzard…” He stopped, not sure if Chao’s allegory was the same he saw. Well, what was said, was said. “At least, come out of where you are. You will still be safe enough and be able to hear your father. Maybe his words can change your mind.”

“I… I will give it a try.”

“Good. Thank you for hearing me.”

“Now, please… Can you leave? I… I still don’t want to be seen.”

 

000ooo000

 

Wolfram uplifted his head and almost fell down, giving two steps back to steady himself. Radagast helped him to sit down on a chair, trying and failing to shove the huge sledge dog that insisted in lick his apprentice’s face, whining. It seemed to him a long time since he placed his hand over the unconscious face of the youngster, but as he looked around he noticed people were almost in the same place as when he came closer to the cot. Seeing the Earthling had finished whatever he was doing, Wang hurried back to his son’s side.

“Chao…?”

“Talk to him.”

“What?”

“You don’t need a neurologist nor a psychiatrist. Probably a psychologist would help, but, what Chao needs more is you. Talk to him.”

 

000OOO000

 

“Lily, I’m nervous!”

“Of course you are, it is your wedding!”

Iris fingered the hem of her overskirt while her sister carefully curled her feet hair and fixed small flowers of silver set with white gems, as Primula and Beryl said was used in the Shire. Well, in the Shire they would do it with real flowers, of course, but in Erebor…

“Ouch, don’t pull!”

“It was you who pulled your foot, sis! Calm down, it will be all right…”

Ellen popped her head inside the tent where the last details were being finished.

“Everything ready, girls?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Lily and Iris answered at the same time, making the elf to smile. They had always been that way, and she missed it since she moved from her brother’s house to her apartment, and even more along the last twenty-eight years since she moved to Middle-Earth.

“Come on, Iris flower dear, you are the brightest bride I’ve seen in the last quarter of a century, and that is to say a lot, considering the mass weddings we sponsored twice already.”

“But I… I’m so _nervous_!”

Noticing the arms crossed over her niece’s breasts and the knees tightly united, Ellen sat down at her side and approached her with a calm tone and hands open, palms facing up in a gesture of support.

“It is not the wedding itself, is it, dear?”

Iris eyed her sideways, pursing her lips.

“Aunty…”

“It’s what comes after, isn’t it?”

“Aunty!”

“All right; this settled, what can I say to you? Bilbo as a real gentlehobbit, anyone with eyes to see knows that the clearly adores you, and I bet a tuna can you’ll find none more patient than him, at least when it comes to you. You will be fine, dear, don’t be afraid.”

“Is it _that_ obvious what I’m afraid of?”

Her aunt laughed lightly, like the elf she was.

“Iris, Iris, I’m a woman too! There are only two things that scare a woman more than a fire-breathing dragon, with the exception a cockroach, of course, and both of them are related. Actually, one is cause, and the other consequence.”

“Don’t talk to me in riddles, I have enough with Dad!”

“First time in bed with a man and childbirth. What I can say to you about it is that they are more frightening than they actually deserve.”

“But there _is_ pain involved!”

Ellen sighed and looked at the roof of the tent, looking for an allegory.

“Iris, your body is a very complex system. You cannot isolate a part of it so it is not affected by the remaining of the body, or that is does not affect the whole of you. Keep this in mind.”

“Translation, please?”

It was Lily’s turn to laugh.

“When your whole body is in state of grace, it will not be a little sting that will make you regret being there!”

“So, don’t let the bread be put into the oven to bake before the oven is properly heated!”

“Oh, _my croft_ , I could have been spared this one!”

“No, you couldn’t! Now, here we go, your betrothed is waiting for you.”

 

000ooo000

 

Before the wedding ceremony was held, Wolfram took a bowl of water and placed it on the table that held the ribbons that would be used to tie the betrothed ones hands; Bombur and Dahl stepped forward, their young baby in her arms and a wide and proud smile in their faces.

The members of the Company came closer, making a small semi-circle enfolding the couple with the baby. The green wizard cleansed his throat and looked nervously around, not used to be the centre of attentions in other circumstance than a biology congress. Then he held his staff tighter, took in a deep breath and beheld the attending guests.

“Dear fellows! When I was invited to speak on the Naming Day of Rís, daughter of Bombur and Dahl, I thought it unusual, as it, in the place I live, uses to be a religious ceremony, a baptism, held during a mess.’

‘When Bombur asked me to hold this Naming Day speech, in a secular context, I got confused, as I always saw the Naming as a religious ceremony. After some moments I begun to think, what would be a non-religious Naming?’

‘For more than I sought, the only non-religious baptism I could remember included to break a champagne bottle on the hull of a ship, but I thought it would be inappropriate. ‘

‘Then I began to consider the religious forms of Naming, the meaning they have, and what meanings would fit to today’s occasion. I could not go any further than the Judeo-Christian for this analysis, they are what I know, but it was enough to have a certain perspective.’

‘In the first forms of baptism its meaning was to wash away the sins of the past and to enter purified in a new life. Obviously, I can’t see how it would fit here.’

‘Later, the baptism came to mean the acceptance of the baptised on the feith issues of a community. Obviously no one demands that from a baby, nor is it about faith that we are talking about.’

‘At last but not at least, in other religious traditions, the Naming is an occasion when the parents of a child introduce her to the community, and state that as a member of the family she becomes also a member of the community, and that she will be raised according to the principles and uses of this group. I thought that it would be in this sense that we could enframe today’s ceremony.’

‘The values and uses of this community here assembled aren’t formal or stiff as in religious groups, being present representatives of several forms of relating with the sacred; what unites us is simpler and yet very strong. What makes us more than a simple bunch of friends is a feeling of brotherhood, of love, that turns us into something like a family. And this is the feeling we want to go along with Rís for all her life, and this is the value that that shall be passed on by her parents, relatives and by all that are part, in any way, of this extended family.’

‘At last, something that always shows as a visible symbol of the baptism is the water, be it as a mean to wash the past and turn the person spotless for the future, be it in a more universal form, that is what interests us here today, as a symbol of live and transformation. I’m sure what we wish for Rís is an unalloyed life, long and happy, and the continuous transformations that distinguishes life.”

The wizard dipped his hand in the bowl of water and scooped some of it, pouring it on the forehead of the squirming and protesting girl.

“Rís, daughter of Bombur, in the name of the love that connects us who are here, we call you: you are one of us, you will never be alone.”

 

000ooo000

 

            The groom was visibly nervous on all the happening, wiggling his toes and changing his weight from one foot to the other, his hands unresolved on either be at his back or to have his thumbs stuck in the little pockets of his waistcoat. The bride’s smile was radiant, and tiny pine cones in her hair were arranged as to produce the design of flowers. In the absence of flowers, due to the season, a bunch of colourful berries made for a bouquet. Radagast held his staff high and everybody silenced, waiting for his words of blessing on the hobbits to-be-wed. When he had everybody’s attention, he lowered his staff and begun to speak.

            “Dear fellows, friends and family, most respected kings and princes and dignitaries, lords and nobles and warriors…” He sent a wink in the general direction of Aredhel and Dwalin, who facepalmed. “We are gatheredhere to witness the choice of a couple of our friends, who have journeyed half of Middle-Earth and faced dangers unnumbered to be here this day. It was given me the honour of speaking for them in this moment, even if for an union to be formed all that is needed is their own free will, love and commitment. The formalities acknowledged by their people are mere paper stuff, and will be signed according to their traditions, if they want. If they don’t, I don’t care. What I care for is the truth in their hearts, and to this we will hear. I ask you both, bride and groom, to join your hands high, so everybody can see, and answer the questions your witnesses will ask you.”

            Paladin Took, being the youngest, albeit of age, male hobbit present, stepped forward with a purple ribbon in his hand. It was nothing compared with the tough strands of fabric they used to pull down the armoury the day of the battle, instead being light, soft and silky. He turned to his kin and asked, happy to be there and part of that moment.

            “Primula Brandibuck and Drogo Baggins, are you willing now and always to make this commitment to each other?”

Both answered as one.

“Yes, we are.”

Paladin tied the ribbon around their hands with a grin and stepped back, being replaced by his cousin Ferumbras, who carried a blue ribbon.  
            “Primula Brandibuck and Drogo Baggins, will you stand side by side for the rest of your days together?”

“Yes, we will.”  
            Dudo Baggins stepped in front of his brother smiling like a lunatic.

“Primula Brandibuck and Drogo Baggins, will you be there for each other in the difficult and challenging times so that you may grow strong in this union?”

“Yes, we will.”  
            Drogo tied the green ribbon and gave place to Bilbo, who was so nervous he almost dropped the yellow ribbon in his hand.

“Primula Brandibuck and Drogo Baggins, will you bring fun, laughter, joy and happiness to your relationship?”

“Yes, we will.”  
            Now it was the turn of the two female witnesses, as Iris stepped forward with a orange ribbon to adorn the clasped hands of her new friends and relatives. As obstetric practitioner, she was happy that phrase was left for her to ask.

“Primula Brandibuck and Drogo Baggins, will you care and bring up the offspring of this relationship with love and responsibility?”

The furious blush in Primula’s cheeks told everybody who didn’t know it already why that marriage had been so quickly arranged.

“Yes, we will.”  
            With the mischievous grin of one who had worked hard for that moment to happen, Beryl stepped forward with her red ribbon ready to be tied.

“Primula Brandibuck and Drogo Baggins, as the years pass and your hands become aged and wrinkled, will you reach out and be there for each other?

“Yes, we will.”  
            “You may say your vows now.”

Interlacing his fingers in hers amidst the ribbons, Drogo dived into Primula’s eyes end begun to speak.

“Primula, my wife… From now on we will feel no rain, for we will be shelter to each other.”

Voice trembling, Primula answered with her own vow.

“Drogo, my husband… Now we will feel no cold, for we will be warmth to each other.”

“We will feel no more loneliness, for we will be a constant companion to each other.”

“And from now on we are two bodies, but there is only one life ahead of us.”

Drogo let his hand get closer to her face and caressed her cheek, where a stray tear glinted in her emotion, then closed his other hand atop their both.

“This I swear to you, Primula Brandibuck, under the lights of blessing of the sun that shines upon us, taking you in my hands of caring, if I am worthy of you taking my promise of unending love.”

Adding her own tiny hand to the ribbon mess, Primula repeated what she said to him weeks ago, in a boat in the middle of Lake-Town. (2)

            “I take your promise of unending love, Drogo Baggins, and I take the caring of your hands, as I take the lights of blessing the sun is shedding on us.”

Amidst cheers and applause, the newlywed couple kissed chastely and then stepped aside to leave the place in front of Radagst free for the next pair of hobbits.

            Like two days before, the bride was gorgeous in her white gown studded with shining gems, a garland of autumn leaves crowning her fire-red hair, and strands of golden wheat made her bouquet. The green wizard at her side smiled like a fool, the golden autumn leaves adding to the glamour of the neatly arranged party place amidst the woods, close to the skirts of the mountain. All around, smaller tents provided shadow for the guests, and there were a lot of guests indeed, of every race of the free peoples of Middle-Earth. Only this time there were children too, and more women, and there was not the strain of an upcoming battle. The surprise of a double wedding added joy to the moment, as it would be something both couples would always have in common.

Wolfram planted a kiss on his younger daughter’s brow, then took her hand and placed it on Bilbo’s, which trembled like he was about to hold the most precious of gems. In his hearth, he was.

Radagast’s speech and the remaining rite was basically the same as for Drogo and Primula, except that it was a little awkward for the newlyweds to tie the knots of their friends with their own hands tied together. Also, Iris had insisted in the tradition of her own land to exchange plain rings of gold and Bilbo got quite nervous when the ring he took out of his pocket was not the one he intended to put in her finger, but probably only Gwendolin noticed the mistake, wide eyed, and this time she kept her mouth shut.

After their final vows and sealing kiss, Gandalf made several squibs to fire, as even in the bright light of morning their whistles and pops added joy to the moment. Later, after sundown, the real fireworks would be shot, much to Bilbo’s pleasure, and he laughed to himself that they were the only thing he remembered about Gandalf when he sought for him offering an adventure, a life ago in the Shire. Right now, they were the signal for the bartenders to serve some drinks while Bofur’s staff turned the glade into a roofless banquet hall.

The long tables were set with creamy table cloths and floral arrangements, only that they were not made with flowers but with pine cones, autumn leaves and wheat strands. As soon as they were ready, the waiters came with large dishes of assorted foods, enough for the hobbits tell in the Shire that it ‘rained drink and snowed food’, like a proper hobbit wedding should be. Primula was not quite in the mood to eat, partly because of all emotions, partly because of a nauseated stomach, but Drogo made sure her part was eaten anyway.

“Hope you have a good nest, I’ve heard you’ll need it.”

“Rärc! This is no way to address my cousin!” Indignant Bilbo scolded the raven and Primula chuckled.

“It is true, o noble king of the black-feathered guardians of Erebor! What would you advise us for our nest?”

Rärc would have shown his tongue to Bilbo if it were long enough, as he was not aware that Primula had learned how to deal with the ravens in her favour, which meant, lots of cajoling and a small tokens for the birds to hoard. In exchange, she had the best guides to anywhere she could dream to see inside and out of Erebor, and more gossip than even a Sackville could bear.

“Crr. Use good twigs on a level patch of rock, dry and safe from rain; bend them while they are green and they’ll hold in the shape you casted; soft dry leaves, shed feathers and fluffs of wool and cotton make a warm bedding, but let the hatchling be out on the rough stone once in a while so he gets used to the world around. Basically, that’s it.”

“Thank you for your advice, my friend. May your feathers never fall!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – The Naming Speech was adapted from a secular baptism my brother held for the daughter of one of his best friends. Used by permission.  
>  2 – If you want to know in which circumstances these words were said, look for Chapter 29, In the Boat


	50. Of Cakes and Bouquets

Several dishes and side dishes later, helped to get down by tankards of ale and wine, the party moved to the main feasting hall inside the Mountain, as even with their strong security scheme there was no real guarantee that there would be no occurrences in the woods after nightfall.

The thirty minutes stroll was welcome as a means to help digestion, but coaches were provided for the ones who wanted them, mostly elderly ones, smaller children, some women and some who ate too much and were unable to walk at all, like Bombur. He took a seat beside Ferumbras, who held Kim in his lap, the little dwelf nodding off and dribbling on his sleeve.

“This little princess seems to be fond of you, Master Ferumbras! She is quite friendly as a rule, must be her elf blood, but I never saw her cling to someone as she’s done with you lately.”

The hobbit moved a hair strand out of her closing eyes and smiled.

“We’ve spent a lot of time together in the garden balcony, as it is a little hard for me to accompany my kin in all their rambles and scrambles, even if they have patience to wait for a limping fellow.”

“What a shame that you travelled so far to be stuck inside the Mountains, from what I know about our burglar I deem hobbits quite love the open.”

“Ah, well, we do, but I found out that the Mountain can be quite interesting, too.” His eyes wandered around, as if searching for something, absently. “Actually, fascinating.”

A dwarf hopped down from a wagon ahead from them and waited until they reached him.

“Is Kim giving you much trouble?” The babysitter asked with a fresh smile in his face. “You can always handle her back to me if you get tired.”

“I’ve told you already, Leri, my problem is with my leg, not with my arms. I could hold a dwarf all day long if…” Stopping in mid-sentence, Ferumbras diverted his eyes back to the little girl in his arms. “… But I should say ‘dwelf’, I think.”

Leri held the side of the wagon to keep his pace with them, entwining his fingers in the ribbons that decorated it for the occasion.

“I’ll be right here if you get tired, anyway. I’m still amazed that you answered the call for the battle, though. It was very courageous.”

The hobbit dismissed the praise with a weave of his hand.

“If my cousin Bilbo had the courage to face a dragon alone, I’d be ashamed to back off from a couple of orcs when sided by the finest of Erebor’s army, plus all those elves and rangers and whatnot.”

“Even so…”

“And then, I was not in the middle of the fray, actually, I was just in the healers’ tent, helping with the wounded.”

“Aye, but I heard that you fought an orc with just a scissor. If this is not courage…”

“Leri! It was simple self-defence! I’d hit that nasty thing with a conkers rod if I had nothing else at hand!”

Bombur gave his contribution.

“I understand you, Master Took. I’ve done some damage with my cooking ladle, when needed.”

“You see? Courageous like a member of the Company, that’s what I say!”

Ferumbras sent the young dwarf a smiling gaze and shook his head, amused.

“You are helpless…”

 

000ooo000

 

The wide stone halls were decorated the best the dwarves were able to, considering it was supposed to be a hobbit party. The absence of flowers was bypassed with candlesticks cast with green varnish and rose-shaped candles on every table. Bilbo thought it excessive, too much metal and too much work where a simple strand of wheat would be enough, like had been done in the glen. But, it would not be him to judge his hosts’ tastes on decorative issues, as they were offering a three day long party to make even the Old Took to get agape.

“I still don’t know how I’ll face your father.” Drogo whispered to Primula, adoring eyes set with a bit of worry. “It is not like we had a proper courting, you know.”

“Drogo, we… we wasted too much time in the Shire not looking at each other the way we should. It took us too much time to see what must have been plain to see to everyone around but us.”

“Still, I haven’t presented my intentions to your parents and…”

“And what else? We have had lots of perfectly respectful strolling in the fields since I know myself as a person.”

“That’s true, but…”

“And I can’t remember how many cakes my mom and yours have exchanges in last decade, or how many times our fathers have helped each other in their farms.”

“Yes, you are right, but…”

“And how many times did we dance together at parties?”

“But nothing was _formal_!”

Primula humphed.

“Details. If you stick to them, you’ll get nowhere.”

The corners of Drogo’s mouth uplifted as he leant down to kiss her brow. His free hand trailed down the side of her body and reached subtly for her flat belly.

“This is not a detail.”

“No, it is not, it is a gift.”

“People will gossip.”

“Drogo, we had a proper wedding, with the traditional exchange of vows, and had it written down on a parchment with the signatures of six witnesses in red ink. What is there to be gossiped about?”

With a sigh, Drogo gave up.

“You are right, my wife. And I’m better get used to it, it seems.”

Primula rested her head on Drogo’s shoulder, a smile in her face.

“I’m happy I have a wise husband.”

 

000ooo000

 

Lily couched lightly and took a sip of honey mead, which seemed to calm her throat a little. Picking at her meat, nothing really tasted that good for her that day. It was not envy, it was just… _whish_. It was hard not to think about Thorin when attending a dwarf wedding party, even if it was not a dwarf wedding and if the rites were so different from the dwarven ones. She knew them, Thorin had said all the words and the meaning of everything that was to be said and done that afternoon, in the old temple, after he gave up his gold and got rid of the gold-sickness. There was no witness but the very rock of the mountain, the flesh od Erebor, and it was enough for them; nor had there been any feast but a couple of improvised pizzas when they finally got back to the headquarters, Thorin’s house. No, it was Kíli’s house now. And, unlike Primula, she did have no seed of her beloved one to carry home. Only a bead in her hair, a bead adorning a braid.

“ _Tz wz neez cvd_!”

“What?” Lily had been fingering the bead in her hair, absently, and hadn’t noticed the pair of dwelves that found seat at each side of her.

“What my manner-less brother is trying to say through a ton of food is that this bead was nicely carved. And I must agree.”

Still a little confused by the sudden presence of her young cousins, but glad for having something to keep her mind away from her remembrances, Lily just had to smile.

“Thank you.” She continued to finger the bead in her braid, unable to leave it. “Your granduncle made it.”

Knee reached for said braid across her shoulder, taking it from her hand and from Frérin’s view.

“Fine craftsmanship.” His eyes narrowed a bit, focusing on the piece of silver he held. “It has a heavier core, made to endure, but perfectly blended with the outside layer, so it won’t flake off; yet, it is at the same time soft enough to be finely carved and hard enough to endure use with no wear to be seen.”

Lily was so absorbed by Knee’s precise description of her bead that she didn’t notice the robbing fork in her plate.

“I’m glad it had no damage in the transposing from _here_ to _there_ , and _back_ , so to say. I have so little from him, I’d be very much distressed if anything wrong happened to one of the few keepsakes I have.”

Knee let her braid roll on his hand before placing it again on her right shoulder, opposite to him.

“I’ve spent the last seasons at perfecting beads; I hope I’ll be able to make something that fine in a short time.”

“ _Mhhsgohh_.”

“Whaaat?” Lily turned right to her other cousin, who hurried to swallow his mouthful before making himself clear.

“I’d set the carvings with gold, and perhaps some gems.”

“Fré! Why must you always speak to Lily with your mouth full? Mom will throw you into the dungeons if she notices it.”

The copycat of Kíli with blue eyes gestured with his fork, apologizing.

“So I can answer her faster, it would not be nice to have her waiting!”

“And answers that she can’t understand are worse than to wait some moments to get them!”

Frérin made his best puppy eyes to Lily and took her hands in his.

“I apologize from the depths of my hearth for the inconvenience of my lack of manners when talking to you and eating at the same time. I have to say in my defence that all I wish is to provide you prompt answers to clarify any doubt you may have on any issue regarding life, the universe and everything!”

So amazed she was by Frérin’s speech that Lily didn’t notice the fork that stole her meat, this time form her left side.

“Frérin, no need to apologize this way, I understand it was just hurry, ok? But try not to speak while eating, yes? Girls don’t use to like it.”

Frérin blushed and let go her hands, and Knee took them in turn, making her face him.

“Wrong call for this one, he insists that he’ll never take a wife.”

“But why?”

“Because he’s the spare.”

Lily frowned.

“And why would that be a matter?”

Frérin made Lily turn back to him, his lips suspiciously shining with fat.

“Because I’ll be Knee’s warlord, and there are few girls who would be willing to marry someone who will always be at life risk in defence to the king.”

“Well, I think a girl who doesn’t commit with the needs of the kingdom doesn’t deserve you, and that’s all. When you find the right girl I’m sure she will commit. If not, you’ll know she is not the right one.”

“That sounds sensible. But would I be at ease when I have to travel or go into patrols and dangerous tasks, thinking that my One will be at home worrying about me?”

Knee pulled Lily to his side again.

“This is ridiculous, and I have told him. When he finds his One, there will no force in Middle-earth to keep him from her, I bet my beard!” The Earthling looked at his bare chin and muffled a chuckle, much to his embarrassment. “Hey, you know what I mean!”

“But she is right, we should bet other things than beards, at least for now.”

“Better not to bet brains, you don’t have any to spare!”

“As if you had any to use at all!”

The brothers continued to provoke each other, never letting Lily in peace until she was about to grab them by the scruff and bang their heads together to see if they calmed down a little. Is used to work with Fíli and Kíli, so it was bound to work with them, she supposed.

“Can’t you both perform your particular was somewhere else?”

“Your wish is a command!”

With that each of them took a last piece of meat of Lily’s plate and made for an escape. Noticing too late her lovely cousins had fished all her venison roast bit by bit while distracting her, Lily jumped from her seat and dashed after them.

“You brats! Just let me put my hands on you!”

The lads laughed like deranged as they ran from Lily, who quite unashamedly grabbed the hem of her gown to make it easier to run after the dwelves. They swerved and diverted, deviating from people and beverage carts, making it difficult for her to find them in the dancing crowd, until she finally lost them.

“Lily, flower, dear, what are you doing?”

Ellen asked to her upset niece while twirling in Kíli’s arms.

“I’m going to kill a pair of sons of yours, but don’t thank me yet!”

“What did my heirs do this time?”

Kíli wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know, but it was better to know in advance what was the prank of the day.

“One does not simply call my sister a puppy and get away unharmed, and the same can be said about ones who steal _my_ _meat_!” (1)

Still fuming, she stopped close to the table where Leri was keeping an eye on the little ones while talking merrily to some of the hobbits. She didn’t notice when Fíli came to her and almost jumped back when he pulled her sleeve to get her attention.

“Fíli! You startled me! What can I do to help you?”

The blond dwelfling shook his head.

“Nay, Aunty, it is me who wanna help you!”  
            Swallowing a laughter at his insistence in calling her ‘ _Aunty_ ’, Lily knelt down to talk to him eye to eye.

“And what can you do to help me, little one?”

“I can ask Kim if she can ask Hazel to find Knee and Fré for you, if you promise to remember that I’m not that _little_ anymore.”

“What?” She frowned. “How?”

“Promise?”

“Aye, I promise, Fíli, I’ll try to remember it. Now, how can you and Kim help me?”

The lad shuffled on his feet.

“See, me and Kim play with Hazel, because Mister Radagast said she has to exercise a little, not too much, but a little anyways; so, we play _search-and-destroy_ , that is, I hide myself and Kim sends Hazel to find me.”

“Oh… you mean, you play hide-and-seek with the bunny?”

“No, no hide-and-seek, I _mean_ search-and-destroy, because Hazel hits me with her paws when she finds me, and Kim tickles me, so I really try to hide very well so they don’t find me!”

“It makes sense…”

“So, what if we ask Hazel to _seek-and-destroy_ Knee and Frérin? She is very good at it!”

With a vengeful look in her eyes, Lily nodded to her young cousin.

“Aye, so be it. Hazel _seeks_ , and I _destroy_!”

Fíli ran to his sister and urged her to them with the rabbit in her arms.

“ _Kee_! _Kee_! Come help Aunty!”

The girl slid down from Balin’s lap and came running with the enormous rabbit at her heels and a sesame biscuit in her hand.

“How _Kee_ help?”

Lily took the little one in her arms.

“Kim, can you tell Hazel to find your older brothers?”

The dwelfling nodded, with a wide smile.

“Aye, Hazy is smart, Hazy find Knee and Fré, Hazy find all-all people!”

“So, darling, then do cousin Lily a favour and tell Hazel to find them. When we find them you both can help me to ‘ _destroy_ ’ them if you wish!”

“Can we?” Fíli’s eyes shone in anticipation.

“You have my word!”

“Me too!” Lyn offered, thrilled by the chance to tickle her brothers with an adult’s consent.

Kim squirmed herself down from Lily’s arms and knelt down beside the rabbit, whispering some incomprehensible gibberish of her own into Hazel’s ear. Said rabbit sat down on her hinder paws and sniffed the air, log ears turning here and there like directional antennas. Within minutes, she dropped to the floor and made a bee line to a wide table where an assortment of candies and sweets were waiting to be declared free territory. Lily let Fíli and Kim follow Hazel directly and made and arch, intending to surround the brats and cut a possible escape route. Lyn took the opposite arch as soon as she perceived Lily’s movement, a mischievous smile on her elf-like face.

Kim was too excited to keep herself quiet and giggled madly as Hazel looked back, indicating their prey should be close. Lyn had the idea of ‘flushing the game’ and let out a loud ‘Gotcha!’ when she finally spotted her brothers. It worked.

Hearing Lyn at one side and seeing Fíli and Kim coming directly to them, following the brown rabbit, the Royal Double Trouble left their hiding place under the sweets table and ran to the other side, now and then looking behind to make sure their hunters were left behind.

As soon as she spotted them, Lily’s vision tunneled and she saw nothing else but her targets. Really nothing, not even the huge cake shaped like a dragon that was being carried to the sweets’ table by two waiters from Bombur’s staff. The cake had been the result of the combined efforts from Bombur himself and Revin, the candyman, who patiently made each scale that decorated the dragon out of fine, transluscent hard candy colored strawberry red and sprinkled with gold dust. Those crackling sugar scales had ben fixed one by one on the savory cake with a special frosting, granting the soft fruit filling would keep inside it and not moist the scales. The wings were a work of art in themselves, and the suggar glazed eyes of the beast could daze any heedless one. The whole violent outrage to diet rested surrounded by a bed of golden nut caramels shaped like large coins.

But Lily didn’t see it.

Nor Knee and Frérin and their sisters and brother who chased them.

Not that Lily had not been warned…

“Watch out the dragon!”

She looked back over her shoulder and cried to whoever tried to make her aware.

“There was only one dragon in Erebor, and it was blinded by _me_!”

Lily’s angry answer had barely left her lips when the collision route found its end, Knee and Frérin trying and failing to slide under the cake tray and Lily trying and failing to stop short before smashing her face on the dragon’s side. The unbalanced waiters came down with cake and candy and all, and the mess was completed by the _Trouble Triplet_ that was unable (or unwilling, only Mahal knows) to stop their momentum before becoming part of the sweetest guests of the party. Fíli almost succeded into keeping himself out of the mess, but as he swayed on his feet, two steps short of the first patches of icing, flapping his arms to gain balance, Kim collided with his back, sending both of them as a final dressing to the post-modern cake decoration.

“This is not fair!”

This time it was Lily to complain, only to be followed by the boys.

“And this is not right!” Said Knee.

“And I agree!” Was Frérin’s final say.

As if it were not enough, Hazel triumphantly hopped on the cake pile and tapped Knee’s nose with her paws, repeatedly.

“LILY! LILYYYYY!”

Iris all but dragged Bilbo behind her, their hands still tied by the bunch of ribbons and a look of despair in her face.

“Oh, Sis…”

Lily hid her face in her caked hands, ready to receive the scolding of her life, warm tears of shame and regret flowing down her creamy cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Iris, I’m so sorry, I messed everything, your party should be perfect and I messed everything…”

Her sobs were loud enough for Lily not to hear her cousins calculating the results of the incident.

“Sweet Mahal, Amad will make us peel potatoes until our beards grow long!”

Frérin considered the prospect with downcast eyes, but Knee’s opened wide at the worst scenario.

“Oh-oh, she can do worse!”

“Oh, no! Don’t say it!”

“She can send us to dust the library again!”

With that both fell back on the frosting, defeated under the weight of Hazel.

“Lily, Sis, look at me!”

The dwarrowdam obeyed her younger sister, regret clouding her deep sea blue eyes, a candy scale clinging to her side beard braid.

“I’m so sorry, Sis, it should be a party to be remembered forever and…”

“And you think it will not?”

Lily’s chain of ‘sorrys’ was interrupted by a bone crushing hug and a giggle that dissolved her bad feelings, and soon both sisters were laughing like madmen. Bilbo managed to find a handkerchief in his pocket and started the fruitless task of removing cake icing from his sister-in-law’s face, and from his wife too. When he noticed he was actually spreading more cake on her face than removing it, the hobbit gave up and begun to laugh with them.

“Iris, will you ever forgive me?”

“Come on, Lily, it is not like a photographer would take a pic of the cake, is it?”

“You are the best sister in the world, do you know?”

“And I will miss you so much!”

“Me too!”

They embraced again with a new spring of tears. Bilbo shook his was and nibbled a sugar scale.

 

000ooo000

 

One of the good things of having a double wedding party is that some other things come double, too. A bit boring when it comes to speeches and vows and signings of papers, but nice when it comes to certain items, like cakes. If both couples had planned so, their weddings would not bring them as close as it was happening, as now even the cake was the same. After what possible cleansing was done, both of people and of the floor, the cake meant for Drogo and Primula to cut was brought to the sweets table, and both them and Bilbo and Iris held, with their bound hands, large cake servers made of silver and decorated with gold designs, and with a triumph smile cut it at the same time.

To add a final touch, Radagast made a shrill whistle and Iris’s garland of autumn leaves started to move, actually to fly away from her, revealing the silk flowers it was made of. The brown wizard smiled at himself, delighted that the leaf insects played their part so well.

Although this cake was not as specially designed as the destroyed one, it didn’t leave anything amiss, be it in size, taste and beauty. Knowing the hobbits’ affection for flowers, Bombur and Revin decorated it with icing ribbons and flowers, and the nut and honey filling was simply delicious.

“Always have a backup.”

“I remember Marco saying it.”

“Yep, he just didn’t have a backup of himself.”

Wolfram tapped her sister’s shoulder, supportive; he missed his former brother-in-law, but knew she was happy now.

“See, they’ll throw the bouquets now. Go ahead!”

“No, darling, unlike you I’m not able to love again, not the way I loved Ruby. Leave the bouquets for the younger ones, they have more use for it.”

“Funny, it is me who is called Dwarvenhearth and it is you who are unable to overcome the loss of your One.”

“Ellen, I don’t have the stamina to start a relationship anymore, stop to pester me!”

“All right! I believed myself _out of business_ for a long time, but then…”

“Hey, aren’t they tied anymore?” Wolfram noticed Bilbo was not visible beside Iris, but it could mean anything.

“No, the ribbons are cut right after they cut the cake, Beryl explained their uses to me so we wouldn’t mess the whole thing. That’s why the unmarried males are there along with the girls, unlike the uses in our former culture.”

“ _Your_ former culture, it is mine still. Look, there they go, it looks like both brides will throw the bouquets at the same time.”

“Hah, who will…”

Her comment was cut short by the uproar of the single crowd, even if several of them were not _that_ interested to be the next in line to get married. To many a dwarrowdam disappointment, none of them landed in their waiting hands, rather finding their ways to the most unlikely persons to be expected.

Ferumbras looked at the berries that colored the bouquet in his hands and felt himself blush like a _tween_. All at the same time he swallowed dry, crunched the bouquet closer to him as if to hide it from view and looked somewhat left and up, only to meet a pair of dark candid eyes under light brown eyebrows, and quickly looked back to the bouquet in his hands, not knowing what to do with it.

The wheat strand bouquet hit Leri in the face and he grabbed it out of reflex, not really realizing what he was doing besides to protect himself. Bringing it closer to his chest so it would not entangle in his light brown beard, his eyes gazed down to his right, to be met by the other bouquet earner’s, and then back to the golden strands in his hands, as quick as he was able, begging Mahal that none noticed where he had looked to.

“I, ah, I must see the younglings…” he stated to no one in particular.

“No, you don’t.”

Aredhel’s firm voice startled the babysitter.

“Pardon me?”

“Figwit and my cousin Culuin decided to make a _candy camp_ with the little ones under the tent they made with that curtain over there.” She pointed to a corner where movement could be seen under a wide tapestry. “When |I thought they would not be able to deal with two dozen dwarflings, all Elrond’s children dived under the _tent_ and are, seemingly, having a lot of fun. I just can’t figure who is having more fun, the children or the elves.”

As usual in her presence, Leri felt himself a bit awkward.

“But, it is all right, isn’t it? To have fun? Elves do have the right to have fun, once in a while, don’t they?”

Aredhel lowered her night dark eyes to the vivid dwarf lad, considering him.

“The ones who have the hearth for it, yes.”

Leri looked down at the wheat strands in his hands and took in a deep breath.

“I...”

“Come, Leri, dance with us!”

Beryl grabbed his hand and dragged him into the fray, a circular dance led by the hobbits that most of the dwarves and some of the rangers joined already, but Leri’s eyes wandered here and there and found rest only in a pair of big brown eyes that followed him inconspicuously, and that he acknowledged shyly, not sure of how to deal with so a courageous person, feeling himself so little, opposite to someone who had already fought goblins and orcs.

“And there goes our girl…”

Wolfram looked sadly to the direction he saw his younger daughter run, hand in hand with her husband, laughing, blissful. (2)

“Yes…” The elf that was his sister leaned on his shoulder, a distant look in her eyes. “And in two days there from will come a _woman_. And she will not be ‘ours’ anymore, she will be her own, and happy for being one with the one she loves.”

The green wizard sat down on a nearby chair and leaned heavily on his staff, feeling far older than his forty-eight years.

“Why do I have to lose all women I love?”

“What?”

He heaved a sigh.

“You didn’t know our grandma; she has _gone_ when I was ten years old, but I remember her vividly, she was old but so… lucid. Then Mom, along with Dad, and you know how it was. Then I lost Ruby. And then you, from all people, had to find the map and _move_ to Middle-earth, and now Iris, and…” He frowned. “Weird. I have no uncles, nor brothers, nor sons. I had my mother, my sister, my wife, and my daughters. Two of them are dead and two of them chose to live in another universe, and… and I have a selfish wish that Lily doesn’t find anyone so soon, do you understand?”

“Brother, I…” Ellen fought for the right words; she had been almost three decades away from her family, so… “Lily lost too much already. I’m happy to see that still she can smile, that she is able to lead her life on, that… But she’ll always have a part of herself missing, just as you have never been the same after Ruby, you know. As much as I wish for Lily to find someone and be happy, I _know_ how the hearth of a dwarf works. She had her soul entwined to Thorin Oakenshield’s, she will find happiness with none else, but… he is _dead_ , so…Don’t worry, it is a sad thing to say, but she won’t find anyone else, nor soon, nor late.”

“I wish her to be happy, it is not that I don’t…”

“She will. At least, happy like Dís, or like you.”

“Then it is fine. By the way, it was kind of you not grounding your children for the mess with the cake.”

“It was nothing. The only ones with the right to demand a chastisement were Iris and Bilbo, and they didn’t. Why would I? Now, come, time to dance.”

“But I don’t…”

“I’m not asking!”

With that she grabbed her brother’s hand and ran with him to join the dance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – If you don’t remember why it is not wise to call Iris a puppy, see Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart, chapter 14 – Underhill http://archiveofourown.org/works/956865/chapters/1970567


	51. After the Wedding

 

            Bilbo caught the glimpse of a chance in the midst of the song and took Iris’ hand in his, dragging her away from the dancing crowd in the rhythm of the music so it wouldn’t be so obvious, or at least so he expected. The girl giggled as she ran beside him, stumbling in the already dirty skirts of her wedding gown; no way to keep it snow white when you walk barefoot and the heavily embroidered skirt sweeps the ground each step you make. Moreover when you had a close encounter with a destroyed cake on the floor…

            Once out of the large feasting hall, they made their way to the chambers that were set for them, in a catch-up game along the corridors of the ancient dwarven kingdom, not heeding at all any sense of property that could be due. They were happy, they were married, they loved each other and their love endured the hardship of the waiting worlds apart. He looked at her with stars in his eyes, thanking the Powers of Arda for the gift he was given, for the unutterable joy that was his prize after all his waiting; because of the time mismatch between her world and Middle-Earth, the four years she was on Earth meant twenty-eight years for Bilbo, and now he was at the respectable age of seventy-seven, while she was only thirty-five in hobbit-age, barely come of age. Not that they cared at all.

            There was no one around when they reached their newly-wed chambers, and Iris was glad for it, as there was none to see her pink blushed face when they entered the rooms running like a pair of adolescents. Bilbo stopped to close and lock the door behind them, and when he looked around, Iris had disappeared.

            “Sweetie?”

            No sound at all. He started to screen the cozy dwelling, after all he had been there only once to be shown where it was, and his head was completely in another place then and only kept in mind how to get there, not what the place was like in the inside. It was beautiful, even if not quite hobbit-like, being too angular for his taste; but someone with a bit of sense had made the square corners disappear with potted plants and satin curtains, and a wicker folding screen decorated with satin ribbons and crystal beads divided the room in two: the antechamber where he was, with a pair of comfortable cushioned chairs and a small table where an ice bucket waited for them with some assorted wine bottles and two golden goblets, beside a fresh fruit tray, a honey pot, water, dishes and napkins; and a larger place where a satin sheeted bed, smelling of geranium flowers, invited him to rest on its many pillows - or not to rest at all, if things went as he wanted them to. A discreet door by the left lead to a bathing room, presumable, and he guessed where his bride was – no, his _wife_! After so many years of waiting, Bilbo knew that, on the other side of that door, the one who was there was his _wife_. He smiled and went back to the antechamber.

            Iris refreshed her face with the cold water jar and basin she found on the counter, glad she was in a world where make-up was not demanded, but retouched her strawberry flavored lipstick just to feel more assured. The outer velvet shirt, heavy and dirty for the party’s sake, was deftly removed and thrown aside; underneath, a many layered silken underskirt reached to just bellow her knees, which was meant to lend a certain gracefulness to the outer skirt but would be deemed beautiful in itself in a society that didn’t think it improper for a skirt to reach above a woman’s shin, let alone one that almost revealed a lady’s knee. The young woman didn’t know the effect it would have on Bilbo.

            She left for the main room after washing and drying her hairy feet, feeling her face was no more flushed from their running, but Bilbo was not to be seen. The girl re-lit a rose shaped candle that went out, just for the good feeling that all the candles were alight, and turned to the delicate clink of gold against gold. Her _husband_ was leaning on the stone wall, considering he didn’t know if the wicker screen would hold his weight, gold goblets full of wine in his hands, looking at her bare legs like a starving wolf would look at a sheep.

            “Thirsty?”

            He asked with a grin, offering her a wine goblet, which she took with a smile and an almost shy nod. The wine was fruity and sweet, reminding her of a liquor.

            “I like it.” Was all she was able to say, nervous. Right then, nothing in Iris resembled the legendary warrior, the Goblin King’s Bane.

            “It is Dorwinion wine. Must be a gift from Thranduil or Legolas.”

            Iris giggled.

            “From Tauriel! She told me she got so nauseated last time she drank Dorwinion wine that it would take her ages before she drank it again!”

            They both laughed, remembering their escape from Thranduil’s dungeons and the part Tauriel and Legolas played at it. Bilbo looked into her sky blue eyes and handled her his own goblet.

            “Go see if there is another kind of wine you like. Dorwinion wine is strong and has the power of making people sleep, and I’m not sure if we want to sleep right now.”

            She blinked and went to the antechamber to choose a wine while he took his turn in the bathroom. The large bathtub promised some entertainment, he thought, pouring the cold and hot water to mix, still marveled by the use the dwarves put the fire of the forges to. Then Bilbo relieved himself of all the ale people poured into his cup along the party, and looked at the mirror, studying himself while unknoting his gold trimmed ascot. Dwarves were a crazy people, they put gold wherever they could, as if it were important, he thought.

            He came back to find Iris seated at the edge of the large bed, her legs showing under the silken underskirt, a wine goblet in her hand and her eyes lost in it’s red depts. She lifted her eyes to him, smiling, and stood up to take him his wine from a side table. Bilbo took the goblet along with her hand and asked.

            “Do you really want to drink wine with me?”

            “I want anything with you.”

            “Anything?”

            She looked down, closing her eyes, and shook her head.

            “Argh, don’t make me think too much today, ok?”

            He laughed heartedly, taking her goblet from her hands and putting both on the side table. She just stood there, looking perfect to his eyes, silken flowers crowning her in full autumn, the white velvet chemise studded with zircon… the steel vambraces that stated her as an acknowledged warrior were long gone during the party, as was the silver corselet. Now she was as vulnerable as Bilbo never saw her, not even in the Goblin Town, not even in Thranduil’s dungeons, not even when she looked for him amidst the elves and men camps after... Better not to think about that right now.

            Bilbo sat on the bed, holding her hands in his, bringing her closer to him until she sat there too, easily kissing him when he brought their heads closer, the strawberry scent of her lipstick stirring him for the untimely taste.

            “No one to pull your heart out with a soup spoon now.”

            “And no one to impale me with a dragonslayer sword if I don’t behave around you.”

            Iris giggled.

            “But I wouldn’t bet a parsley on you if you DO behave around me!”

            He laughed, letting himself lay down on the bed and dragging Iris with him. She fell on him and they kissed hungrily, while he caressed her back with eager hands, searching for any clue of how to get those clothes away. Unable to find the laces or buttons he expected on her back, he turned them both so her back was on the bed and her breasts were free for his hands to search for buttons of any kind.

            “Have you been _born_ inside this dress?”

            Iris laughed at his distress, as she herself had already managed to unfasten his waistcoat and shirt while he was still fumbling on the upper part of her gown. Then she sat, her back towards him and holding her hair up, and pointed to a small detail close to her neck. The smart hobbit easily ran the zipper open once aware it existed, and complained.

            “It is not fair. You are lucky I’m not of the kind that walks around with a hidden dagger, else I’d have torn your beautiful gown into shreds.”

            She giggled, shaking her head, but stayed as she was, back towards him while he carefully eased her arms from the sleeves of the gown. A chain of kisses, trailing the way the opening zipper bared her back, sent shivers through her body, despite the fire in the hearth. When his tongue began to trail the way back while his hands pretended to have trouble getting her clothes away from her breasts, Iris just stopped to try to help him, delighting in the touch of his hands and the warmth of his mouth on her skin.

            Bilbo moved so he was in front of her again, hiding his face in her hair while nibbling her neck. Iris let out a deep breath, eyes closed, trying to find how to finish undressing his torso by touch, but then he stopped to touch her to get rid of his own shirt, quickly pulling her to him with an urge to feel her bare skin touching his own. He kissed her once more, grasping one of her hands and bringing her to touch him while he held the kiss and caressed her back with his free hand. Then his mouth left hers and trailed the line of her chin and down to the hollow of her neck, making her to breath harder.

            “I hear water falling… what is happening?”

            Iris’ question startled Bilbo and he ran to the bathroom where he forgot the bathtub filling, hurrying to close the faucets before more water poured on the floor. She went after him, her long red curls hiding her breasts.

            “Don’t come near! I just made a mess out of this bathroom and I’ll fix this deluge!”

            She laughed and waded into the one inch water which she saw was receding into some hidden drain.

            “The water feels good, maybe a bit too hot, but it will cool down.”

            Iris spotted some bathing paraphernalia on the counter and took a good looking pot with several little and colorful bath soaps; she chose one and made it to foam in the bathtub water. Bilbo smiled and sat on the border of tub, not even caring that his trousers were getting wet.

            “Hmm, I smells good. What about to wash the weariness of the party away?”

            She nodded.

            “Yep. Just let me make a bit more bubbles on the surface.”

            “What for?”

            “So I can hide under them!”

            “Don’t play the shy around me, woman!” He scowled. “After all you teased me on the Journey, who are you to want to hide from me?”

            The hobbit-lass looked down at the water and shook her head lightly, biting her lower lip. As when she went back to her former world she was decided to fight her way to Bilbo, she didn’t have any more ‘training’ in the arts of flirting, and stopped at the level she was at sixteen.

            “It’s different.”

            “Why?”

            “Ah, by then it was just… teasing, now it is… for real…”

            “I will show you what is for real…”

            With this he grabbed her wrists and pulled her with him into the tub, splashing water all around them and earning an angry complaint.

            “Bilbo! I will kill you!”

            He burst into laughter.

            “Look what you have done! Look at my underskirt, it is… Argh, no, don’t look, I’ll kill you!”

            Actually, the silken underskirt became completely transparent in the water, and it danced around her waist like a thin mist; her wet curls stuck to her breasts, revealing her rose nips underneath the red hair. Bilbo filled his eyes with her sight and brought her closer to him, enjoying the touch of her skin under the warm water, closing his mouth over hers to hush down any death threat. She gave in to his lips and tongue, feeling her own body answer to his call when his hands rubbed her back and bottom, searching for her skin under the thin silk cloth.

            The combination of warm water and flower scent from the soap was relaxing, and it didn’t take long for Iris to get bolder in touching him as a response to Bilbo’s advances to her thighs, while his mouth left hers and trailed down to her nips, biting lightly to tease her more and make her moan. Her hand found the hardness beneath his breeches and retreated, making him break away from her breasts to laugh.

            “I think I’m not properly _undressed_ for the occasion.”

            Had the light been brighter he would have seen Iris’ face turn pink, but he didn’t notice it while fumbling his wet trousers to get them away. She took the chance to turn away from him and said softly.

            “You know, there is something I must tell you… before.”

            “Yes?”

            “It is that I…” She sought the right words but they disappeared from her mind. “I don’t know how you will take it, but it is that I…”

            Bilbo felt her embarrassment and guessed wrongly what it meant. He threw away his wet clothes and reached a hand to her shoulder, trying to be reassuring. He didn’t wait twenty-eight years to hurt her because of any possible slight mistake in her past.

            “Iris…” His hand traced her upper arm very lightly. “You are my _wife_ now. Nothing will change this. Whatever happened to you... it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

            She turned to him with a confused look in her eyes.

            “But… nothing happened!”

            It was his turn to look confusedly at her.

            “Nothing?”

            “Nothing!” She looked down again, but then noticed that now he was completely naked and looked up at his face again. “And… actually this was what I wanted to tell you. I… I have never been… touched…”

            The hobbit let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and chuckled.

            “My piece of heaven was nervous for telling me she had _never_ been touched?” He brought her closer to him and hid his face in her wet hair. “Your world must really be crazy, if you thought it could be a problem.”

            Iris laughed with him, not quite relieved.

            “I didn’t think it would be a problem, I just… You will be kind to me tonight, won’t you?”

            Bilbo cupped her face in his hands and looked deep into her sky blue eyes.

            “I will be kind to you tonight and every day and night of your life. Not that I have much experience with this matters, but I would never – mind you, _never_ – hurt you in any way. It would be too stupid to hurt a treasure I took so long to conquer, I’d rather leave stupidity up to Legolas.”

            As to show his determination, he lavished kisses all over her face and throat while caressing her back with steady but delicate hands. His statement got to the target, and he felt her relaxing in his arms, daring to touch him again a bit less shyly than before. Iris rubbed his shoulders and arms and Bilbo lowered his head to nibble at her breasts again, sending shivers all over her body.

            “Cold?”

            “Not quite.”

            “Let us get out of the water before it chills.”

            With this he stepped out of the tub and took a pair of large and fluffy towels from the counter; he threw one over his shoulders and wrapped the other around the dripping girl who just wringed her hair from the excess of water; her underskirt was gone while he was taking the towels.

            “We don’t want to catch a cold, do we?”

            She smiled at him, and he took her by surprise, snatching her from the ground and carrying her with towel and all to the bedroom.

            “What’re you doing? I’ll kill you!”

            “As if I were afraid of your threats…” Bilbo landed her on the satin sheets and quickly dried himself. “I just want to keep you warm, that’s what I’m doing.”

            Iris freed herself from the towel to keep the sheets dry and in the next instant he was leaning over and kissing her again, eagerly, caressing her body from neck to tights, and then heading down to play with her nips. She moaned as he bit her lightly, teasingly, and trailed down her body with his mouth, stopping to lick her navel while his hands rubbed her thighs, and then slid to her wet folds, feeling her tremble under his touch.

            “Still cold?”

            She just moaned back, panting, and Bilbo let himself down to taste her clit with a probing tongue, sending shivers all over her body. He licked her folds and spent his time on her clit while his hands played along her thighs, and she delighted in each new sensation he made her experience.

            Feeling he could bear his urge not much longer, he trailed her body up again with kisses, letting her hot skin touch his manhood and arouse him even more. She grabbed his hair to bring his mouth to hers, and his hand trailed her body only to find her clit again. He wet his finger in her own moisture, making it easier to slide and try to pleasure her, make her ready for him; he rubbed her, slowly at first until he was sure to have found the most sensible spot, and then faster, finding the rhythm, making stars explode inside his wife. Sensing her paroxysm, the hobbit propped himself up on one arm, looking at her with adoring eyes, moving his finger delicately down to her entrance, feeling her hot wetness welcome him.

            “I want you… I want to…”

            Iris’ panting voice was hoarse, her eyes dark with desire, her body moving to get closer to him.

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah.”

            He moved himself so his erection could reach her entrance, and played there for a while to wet his glans with the honey of her core, then aimed for the right place and tried delicately to slide in. Bilbo was not very experienced, and this was his first time with a virgin, so he was a bit scared to hurt her. He pushed lightly once and felt her tense at the feeling, so he backed of and rubbed her clit once more to relax her; another light push made her tense again, and again he backed off; and so they did some more times, until he perceived it would not work that way and lay on the bed beside her, pulling her to straddle him.

            “Come here, you are in command now.”

            “I…”

            “Take your time. I’m in your hands and we have no haste.”

            She smiled, reassured by his confidence in her. All his care and patience only made her more willing to fulfill their desire and have his manhood inside of her, making her really a woman in its full meaning, a female for her man. She leaned down on him, trying to find a better position, and he caressed her breasts that were so close to his chest while she moved her buttocks trying to engage. When she felt his hard erection right in place she moved back on him, trying to dismiss the twinge of pain and relax, and he groaned under her. She moved again, uprightening her body, and let herself down very slowly, her hands outstretched on his chest, eyes closed, breathing deep, letting herself go to the feeling of his hardness claiming her, nothing but a soreness to remind her the gate she just overpassed. She moved up just a little, and let herself down again, slowly, enjoying the hot sensation, and once more, and then she opened her eyes to her husband, who smiled, breathing as hard as herself.

            “You are mine!”

            “I am!”

            Bilbo brought Iris down to kiss her, rubbed her back and let his hands trail to her buttocks, took a grip of her hips and moved. She was breathing hard and didn’t wince at his moving, so he tried to push a bit faster, keeping his eyes locked with hers in search of any clue of pain; but, if she felt it, she dissembled it well enough for him not to see it, and his hunger for her was already overpowering his ability to control himself, making him moan.

            “You’re so tight!”

            Feeling she moved with him, he thrust into her even faster, and heard her calling his name amidst the pounding in his ears. He felt her body shake in his hands, losing control, and gritted his teeth at his own release, unable to hold back anymore.

            He held her tight to him as they recovered their breath, unable to speak or even to think, only to feel each other’s warmth and smell and taste. Iris rolled beside him with a moan, stretching her legs and arms, then curled herself to his chest. Bilbo traced the line of her eyebrow and sought her mouth for a kiss.

            “Did you like to drink wine with me?”

            His wife giggled.

            “I bet I’ll have no hangover!”


	52. The Day After

The blonde woman changed the bandages around the Sun-Cheng shaman apprentice, noticing it was healing well and with no sign of infection. Without industrial antibiothics, she wondered how it was possible, but then, humankind would not exist at all if there were not ways to avoid bacterial action before Alexander Fleming. She laughed at herself at the tought of BF/AF, Before Fleming/After Fleming. After throwing the dirty bandages in the proper bucket, she ruffled the huge snow dog, that kept beside his master, around the ears, and left for the next cot, but the dwarf lying there had been tended already.

Washing her hands in a basin on a counter halfway of the room, she looked at the sleeping man in the corner further from Chao and was glad to see his breath was even, his chest rising and falling comfortably despite his broken ribs. He had been unconscious most of the time, but had been calmer after Aragorn had been there the day before. Estel, she should call him Estel, Gwendolin tried to convince herself, still with the idea of an autograph in her mind. She had been there when the future king of both Arnor and Gondor (whatever that meant, she watched the movies years ago) had been there and imposed his hand over the elderly one’s brow, muttering softly in a language she didn’t understand but sounded very alike to what Aredhel spoke with Legolas and Tauriel. Estel did this several times along the past two days, and per Wang’s request did the same to Chao, but carefully explaining there was no certainty it would help ‘him’, as ‘he’ was not under the same rules as Estel’s own kin.

Brannen (that was his name) slept, or wathever, his shoulder long graying hair still with a bit of brown to show what it should have been like in years before. His features were strong and grim, some scars here and there, a month-long beard gracing his chin in an almost charming way. She wished he would get well, death in battle was not something she would get used to even if she stayed in Middle-earth the rest of her life, which would not happen, of course. Just some more weeks and she’d take a ride with Wolfram and Lily to Indonesia, and then he would help her to get back to San Diego, including explanations for her absence and how she ended that far away from Heathrow airport. The NerdNet guys would find a way, Wolfram told her.

A movement on the remaining cot caught her attention, and she turned to see a smiling Ulfir looking at her. Óin had kept him under observation longer than he deemed necessary, because, after all, he was human, and human did have softer bones, he said, which made their brains weaker too. She laughed internaly at the idea of weaker brains and smiled back at the man.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

“Good morning, my favourite healer!”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Blessed by your presence.” She weaved off his usual flirt. “Now, before you start to ask, here goes my checklist: my name is Ulfir, son of Ulfar, trainee ward of the royal families, hailing to King Bard the Bowman, of Dale, in allegiance to King Kíli Elvenblood Under the Mountain.” He side smiled at her. “I’m also prisoner of Gwendolin Browne, the healer assistant who is a seamstress that came form the world of our queen and thinks all of this is madness; I also remember you love to ride horses and to read, and that you have a ring that belonged to your father; and that you like wine better than ale; and that you sometimes wish your nose was smaller because other people teased you about it when you were at highschool, whatever it is; and that you felt proud for the costume you made for the annual fashion show at your school, whatever a fashion show is; and…”

“Hey, boy, you were supposed to show you memory of recent things about your own life, ok?”

“But, Gwen…” The man of Dale looked at her with puppy eyes. “The only relevant thing that happened to me recently was you!”

She shook her head at his usual flirt, being sure it was his ordinary way of treating girls.

“Im glad you recovered your memory as far as the banquet.”

“Now that I remember some of the things you told me about you in the banquet, you can tell me about the things you didn’t tell me yet, can’t you?”

Ulfir’s broad smile teased Gwendolin, who smiled back more shyly.

“I’m here to help mister Óin with the wounded ones, not to entertain someone who is in perfect shape again.”

“Who told you I’m in perfect shape? Look, my head is still sore!”

He pointed at the place on his head that got the worst in the crash with the orcs. Gwendolin came to his side and unwrapped the bandage, where only some herbs tarnished it’s colour.

“Óin told me. After lunch you are to be released from our care.”

“Is it really so?” Ulfir’s voice showed his disappointment. “I could hurt myself over and over again if it were to be cared for by you.”

A muffled laughter to their side made both look. It was the dúnedain with broken ribs that was unable to keep his amusement to himself.

“If this is the best flirt you’re able, lad, you’ll better to work harder to convince a girl to take care of you.”

Both smiled at the elderly dúnedain, and Gwendolin hurried to his side.

“Glad to see you awake, mister Brannen, I’ll fetch a healer in no moment. How’re you feeling? Do you want some water?”

“Now I see why that lad is so willing to be hit again. I’d too, to be tended by so a caring soul. I accept your water, milady, though you know my name and I don’t know yours.”

“Ah, erm, it is Gwendolin, sir, no need for miladies or any titles, ok?”

“Ok.” His voice was still hoarse from the lack of use in previous couple of days. “No need for misters and sires, too.”

She handled him a can of water and helped his head up, as she was unsure if his torso should be allowed to be moved.

“Thank you, Gwendolin.”

“You are welcome, s… Brannen.” They exchanged small smiles. “I’ll get Óin or any other healer that’s nearby, and I’s sure Ara…” She cut herself short at yet another slip of her tongue. She didn’t know if Aragorn walked under his own name already, but if not, she didn’t want his comrade to question why she knew it. “Erm, Estel will be glad to know you are awake. He spent many an hour here, praying, I would say, and calling your name.”

The dúnedain smiled lightly and nodded.

“Yes, that’s him. Tell him he called, and I came.”

She nodded and made to leave, weaving a hand to Ulfir and the Sun-Cheng shaman as a good bye. The black haired dwarf was knoked down with some of Óin’s potions, as usual, else he insisted he was right as rain and would try to leave. Óin didn’t want this to happen for some days yet, until he was sure no infection had taken place. The risk of amputation was not over yet.

As soon as she stepped out of the room the huge silvery dog of the north was at her heels, literally. It had begun the day before, and the broken father of Chao told her it must be the unconscious girl’s wish. How a comatose person could communicate with a dog was beyond Gwendolin’s comprehension, but then so was the logic of being in a world known by her only as a fantasy movie.

“Here, doggie! If we make it fast we can have some treats from the wedding party, would you like it?”

Liao Wang shook its tail and ran after her, tongue lolling out in happiness as if he were invited for a stroll.

 

000ooo000

 

Iris thanked mentally Gwendolin for the dress perfectly shaped to her body, in colours that favored her fiery red hair and proportions that made her look astounding, The hobbit woman shily stepped into the banquet hall, holding Bilbo’s hand in hers so tightly it hurt him. She knew it was part of the dwarven uses that the newlywed couple should mingle in the third day of the party as if nothing had happened the day before, and, really, most of the guests were so drunk they didn’t even remember the newlyweds’ faces. Which was good, in a way; mostly for the brides, it made them fell less awkward, because everybody knew what was supposed to have happened the day before. She winked to Primula, who winked back, her smile a little more daring, because she really enjoyed all the time she had with Drogo along the previous day; her _womanly sacrifice_ , as it was called in the Shire, had been performed back in Long Lake, almost costing their lives in a possible drowning. But now they were there, happily unashamed, and the result of their daring was there, inside her womb, being nourished and growing a little bit every day, to what would be a complete joy in some months.

Gwendolin had designed Primula’s ‘day after’ gown to be light, comfortable, with a strand of fabric flowers cascading from her left shoulder to the opposite side and spreading over her bosom like the very spring of the Shire was to decorate her clothes. Primulas, lots of silken primulas, dyed the Valar knew how, with dwarven chemistry or human technology, it didn’t matter. But primulas decorated Primula’s gown, and it was beautiful.

The light rose tones of her gown kind of emphasized Iris’ own dress, a sky shade of blue that matched her eyes and only made Bilbo recall an afternoon at Rivendell when he almost believed Iris was going to be betrothed to Fíli. Now he could see the foolishness of the idea, but then, only some months of his journey and a forthnight of having known her… How could he imagine they were talking about Kíli and Ellen? And now, Fíli’s absence was a dull ache…

“Where is Lily?”

Iris asked, upset for not seeing her sister around; she imagined the incident with the dragon shaped cake would not result in a really serious punishment, but where…

“Aunty is sick.”

Fíli stated bluntly, shoving a spoon of caramel pudding into his mouth.

“Sick? What do you mean?”

Iris almost panicked; dwarves were not supposed to get sick that easily, were they?

“Oh, Iris flower dear, I was to tell you.” Ellen observed to her niece. “It looks like Lily got stonepox along with Knee and Frérin. They’re in the infirmary.”

“What in goodness name is stonepox?”

“Ah, well, do you remember chickenpox?”

“Yep…?”

“So, stonepox is a disease that reminds it a little; it is endemic, I supose virotic, among dwarwen youngsters, that usually occurs around their adolescent spurt, what is quite expected for my boys… but as Lily is a dwarf-lass that never had contact with this virosis before…”

Iris had to control herself not to outburst with laughter.

“So, Lily… my older sister… is in the infirmary with an _adolescent_ disease?”

“Erm, well, so it seems.”  
            “That’s not true, and I’ve told you so!” Kíli intervened, in a funny state between drunk and exhilarated by the party and the presence of his ‘little-sister’. “I myself had stonepox only at fifty-nine, even though Fíli had it at thirty-two.”

“That’s because you were always overprotected and at the first sign of Fíli getting ill Dís always sent you to Ylm to spend some days.”

“Ellen!”

“That’s just what your mother told me, she admitted it.”

Iris giggled and Bilbo laughed along.

“And what more happened while we were… busy?”

“You missed a lot, but I can’t say you would be better off if you hadn’t. For instance, Beorn almost granted us the international incident with the Sun-Cheng we’re trying so much to avoid, but I can’t say it was totally his fault.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo looked at Beorn, who was at a table close to the honey mead barrel, accompanied by the Sun-Cheng leader and his First-Fisher, all of them seemingly in good terms with each other and with the honew mead too.

“See, as a part of the Soon-Cheng mourning process, they have a taboo time in which the name of the deceased one is not spoken, and they were talking about the fisher’s brother and speaking highly of his hunting skills.”

Ellen took the tread Kíli began.

“It happened that Bofur – by the Valar, it _had_ to be Bofur! – asked them if all white bears were as huge as the one they brought the fur, and can imagine Beorn’s reaction at the mention of bear fur…”

“Dear me, don’t you say…”

“Yes, I do!”

“Wow! Beorn was scary enough at the Battle of Five Armies, and that that he was at our side…”

“I can tell you that that was ‘only’ a bersek Beorn, while yesterday he was kind of…” Ellen weaved her hands, fighting for words.

“Hulked?” Iris offered.

“Hulked! A precise definition. I can tell you, if it weren’t for Radagast and Beorn’s squirrel, I don’t know how much would have been left from the Sun-Cheng.”

Kíli took the chance to make a colourful description of the almost a battle between bear and bear hunters, the North-easterlingas scared to death by Beorn’s metamorphosis and rage. Sham, the master fisher, had been thrown across the banquet hall and almost gone to make company to his deceased brother if he hadn’t fallen atop of Bombur; Tsui had faced the huge black bear with awe and fear and tried to express his worshiping of him chanting a word of his own language over and over again, something that sounded like ‘ _Shardik, Shardik, Shardik_ …’, but Beorn was not interested in Tsui’s chanting and was about to come for his head when Radagast stepped between them, arms raised and shaking his staff like a madman – alternative which was not completely discarded, by any accounts. The black squirrel jumped atop Radagast’s hat and begun to make angry squeaks and shrieks to gain his friend’s attention, with no success until he turned his back to him and bristled his tail.

“Now tell me, master burglar, what would be your reaction at a crazy brown wizard shaking a staff with a black squirrel for a crown, showing his private parts in the most unashamed manner?”

Bilbo shook his head, trying and failing to get free of the mental image he made on the description.

“Ugh, I think I would run away.” He considered the situation a bit more. “Or roll on the floor laughing.”

Iris began to laugh even so much her belly hurt and tears came out of her eyes, to a point Bilbo got worried.

“Sweetie, what is happening?”

“Nothing… I just…” She said when she was able to breathe again. “I recalled a movie where a lemur king has a crown made of leaves and a small lizard attached to it, and he sings and dances something like ‘ _I like to move it, move it_ ’…”

Ellen immediately caught the reference and started to laugh as madly as her niece, making Kíli to worry as much as Bilbo.

“Are our wives just gone crazy?”

The hobbit just opened his arms in a gesture of defeat.

“I don’t know, mine has always been a bit crazy.”

The dearf nodded his agreement.

“It must be a family kink, then…”

“Probably…”

When the women regained control over their outburst of laughter, Iris wiped her eyes and stated.

“But they seem to be at good terms now.”

“Good terms? That would be an understatement!”

“What do you mean?”

Kíli wiped the ale from his mouth with the back of his hand and elightened his _little sister_.

“The Soon-Cheng have a legend about skin changer white bears being kind of divine, so they started to worship Beorn as soon as he was calm enough as not to try to kill them; it left him completely off-guard, moreover when Tsui Wei Xiu told him his grandfather claimed to have seen one of these when he was young. Beorn believed to be the last of his race, but he didn’t know there were skin changers in the north, and now he intends to travel north with them to see if he finds someone to marry.”

“Wow, that would be nice!”

“Really! Can you imagine, a brood of fluffy Beornings?”

“Hmm. The east side of the Misty Mountains would be a lot more safe, I deem.”

“Yes. If you are not an orc or a goblin!”

 

000ooo000

 

Later that day Iris took her time to visit her sister and cousins in their room at the infirmary, all of them complaining for having to stay abed for a couple of days. The chess board had been brought to grant them a little entertainment, and they took turns at it, to keep the boredom away. Not that it was possible to be bored with Knee and Frérin telling their little adventures to Lily, and they were hungry listeners of what she could tell of her own world, as it was their mother’s world too, and it was funny for them to imagine Ellen as a human.

The sun was getting low outside when their fewer rose again and the grayish dots on their skin begun to itch. In Óin’s opinion, time to take a bath, some medicine and to sleep, to what the three complained, to no avail. Iris had just left their room when she noticed Gwendolin inside the next room, just finishing to tend the Shaman’s son.

“Hello, Gwen, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, beautiful bride!”

Iris giggled.

“I’m visiting my sister and a couple of cousins, they’ve got a kind of chickenpox, for what I”ve been told. Nothing a couple of days won’t fix, but it is better if they are kept away from my remaining cousins.”

“Oh. And isn’t it dangerous that they spread it among the ailing ones? I’m sure a virosis wouldn’t help any of them.”

“Óin said that no, it doesn’t get other races and all the dwarves in here had it already. It’s just excess of care, it seems, but with the little ones around they would not be able to rest, too.”

They sat on the cot that had been freed from Ulfir the previous day and chatted quietly, so not to disturb the patients. They had built quite a friendship in Gwendolin first days at Erebor, as after the dungeon incident Ellen insisted that the woman should be hosted in the royal dwellings, and being close in age they had lots of things in common.

“I know how it is, once I got a pneumonia and it was a pain in the guts for the nuns to keep the younger children away from my bedroom, it was like someone sick is more interesting than anything else in the world.”

“I still cant believe you lived most or your life in an orphanage. I mean, I thought little blonde girls use to be adopted quite easily, prejudices apart.”

“Maybe. I never understood it really, my nuns never mentioned adoption processes for me. It is ok for me now, but there were times when I wished for a family different from them, people to call Mom and Daddy, you understand?” Iris nodded. “Of course my nuns turned out to be a kind of family to me, but, you know, someone you can say, my father is like that, my mother uses to be that way… But I think I’m better off than several children I knew who had been separated form their parents because of abuse, beatings and even worse.”

The hobbit agreed and told a little about herself, as it was not that usual to find someone with whom she could share the feeling of not having known her mother and be a normal person despite it.

“I never knew my mother, either. She died soon after I was born. Not to have known my mother was bad, but worse yet was to have people pitying me for it. Ouch!”

“Yes, I can relate. Mostly after I left the orphanage to live on my own, I mean, when I begun to be around people who didn’t know it beforehand.”

“As if not having known my mother should define me.”

“Exactly!”

“Sometimes I must bit my tongue when people who knew my mom say things like ‘oh, you have your mother’s hair’, but I learned to deal with them even when they thought I didn’t know what to be a woman meant. You see, I had a female reference in my aunt, and for what you tell me your nuns are just as fantastic.”

Gwendolin smiled at the mention.

“Yes, they are. They took care of me in a way I didn’t see them care about any other kid in the orphanage. I don’t know, they don’t talk much about it, but I think is has something to do with my mother having asked them personally to take care of me, not a social worker bringing in yet another child from a disrupted home. Not that they didn’t care about them, or that they didn’t care about me, it just… was different.”

“So, they knew your mom? Why did she leave you in the orphanage, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No problem. Yes, they did, my mom was very sick and brought me to the orphanage, she had only time to tell them my name and she died. It was not possible to find out who she was, though. Funny you mentioning your hair is like your mom’s, the nuns say she was blonde like me, but had dark eyes.” She fingered the ring in the chain around her neck. “So, all I have from my father is the colour of my eyes, and this ring my mom gave the nuns to keep for me; she said it was all she had from my father. And from my mother I have only the colour of my hair, I don’t even know her name.”

A hoarse voice startled them, and his words made Gwendolin’s world turn upside down.

“Her name was Marcia Owens and this ring is mine.”


	53. Revelations

“What?”

Gwendolin and Iris turned as one to the hoarse voice that startled them with that weird statement. The woman clutched her ring tightly and looked wide eyed at the elderly dúnedain who stared at her from his cot. She felt Iris’ arm around her shoulder, a reassuring hand on her arm, as her world turned upside down.

“Who… who are you?”

The young woman whispered almost to herself; she knew the man’s name, and had spoken a little to him the day before.

“Please, don’t be so dramatic as Luke Skywalker, ok?”

“What?”

It was Iris turn to be astonished, What was a dúnedain talking about Star Wars, of all things in this world? But then it hit her. Star Wars was not of _this_ world. Nor was it usual to hear people of Middle-earth to say ‘ok’.

“I might be wrong, but from what I’ve heard from you, and about you… And then your ring… Aragorn had a good chance to see it, he told me… It is not expected for him to be mistaken about this kind of heirloom, master Elrond taught him well…”

“Wait, are you _really_ telling me…”

“Gondolin, I’m your father.”

Gwendolin opened and shut her mouth like a fish before speaking.

"You're my... What?"

He looked at her, eyes shiny with moist that had been held there for too much time. "I believe... that I'm you father."

Iris rolled her eyes.

"No, wait. What kind of soup opera is this?"

The blonde woman blinked, then studied his face carefully. For the most part, he looked very different from herself, but his eyes seemed to a perfect mirror of her own. Just like the nuns had supposed they would be. She smiled slowly and tried a word she never dared to use before.

"D…daddy?"

"For what absurd this might seem, I think so, honey. Gondolin... Is it really you? I mean, you are from there, aren't you? From the world of Men?"

Gwendolin smiled shyly and nodded in agreement, then pursed her lips and asked, as confused as possible and every second getting worse.

“Hey, what makes you be so sure she is the one you think she is? Not that anyone knowing about Star Wars is really usual here, but…”

The grayhaired dúnedain smiled lightly at the hobbit-lass.

“You have a right in doubting, as I had when Aragorn first told me. But there are some evidences that cannot be denied, and all of them say _your_ Gwendolin is _my_ Gondolin.”

“Like what…?”

The man looked down at his fidgeting fingers that played with nothing but its own knuckles.

“My family is not as important as the great houses of Man that bred heroes, like the house of Hador, Haleth or of Bëor, but the house of Túrion has its own value, and we’ve always been faithfull to the King. The ring of Túrion has been passed down from generation to generation since the great days of Númenor, and it was the only thing I had to give your mother when we… came together. There is no other ring like it, Gondolin, there’s no chance to be mistaken.”

The woman kept fingering said ring.

"But why do you keep calling me Gondolin? The nuns named me Gwendolin, or Gwen for short."

"No." He spoke lightly, even in his emotional state trying to keep his ribs in place, but visibly moved. "They must have misunderstood it. Your mother chose the name Gondolin, because of a city of the elves that was very hidden from any enemy. She loved the story and… and said you should be as protected as the city of the legend." He swallowed hard. "She only didn't know it would not be enough..."

The young woman looked from him to his fidgeting hands and back to the dúnedain warior’s face.

"What happened to her?"

Brannen frowned, visibly uncomfortable with the question, and the memory of that tragic day.

"I think you know more than me. When Marcia’s mother's witchcraft sent me back here, you were in her arms and... and I saw no more." He looked down, avoiding her face, and fidgeted with the brim of his blanquet. "I hoped she would be all right... but I heard you telling she died..."

Taking one of his hands in hers, the woman felt curious albeit all her world coming apart; things were so weird already, a little weirder would not be a surprise. Would it? She frowned. Gwendolin had seen too much things in Middle-earth to feel sure her parents should be ordinary people.

“Wait, my... grandma is a witch?” Brannen’s deep frown was answer enough. “Did my mother have magic too?"

The dúnedain in the cot shook his head.

"No. That's why she hated me, she hoped Marcia would marry a sorcerer of her allegiance, so she would have grandchildren capable of witchcraft like herself. I was... not in her plans."

Iris almost tripped on her own feet whilst steeping down f the cot.

"Wait, waaaait...” She turned to the man with broken ribs. “You're telling you went to my world and married the daughter of a witch?"

The man lowered his gaze, ashamed. "We were not allowed to get married... But I confess I loved Marcia enough not only to marry her but to give up my very world for her."

Gwendolin frowned as she stated.

"If grandma didn't like you, then she wouldn't like me. I doubt a college graduated costume maker for a granddaughter would make her very happy.”

Brannen managed to smile.

"I'm sure it wouldn't. But by the sound of it, it makes me very proud... my _daughter_..."

She smiled, and leaned down to hug her father gently, so as not to move his ribs. It was hard, because she waited for this moment all her life long without actually waiting, knowing she would not be adopted as at the age she got conscious of her situation it was very rare for an orphan to be adopted, and then… It was almost unfair that the day she found the one who was her father she could not even hug him properly.

 

 

"Erm, sorry by the interruption of this warm family reunion, but how in goodness name did you go to Earth, master Brannen?" Iris' curiosity was stronger than her consideration for a sensible moment. "What kind of portal did you travel through?"

The man took in a breath as deep as he could manage with his broken ribs.

"I think it is time to tell you a story..."

Gwendolin sat beside him, holding his hand.

“I will love to listen.”

“And I wouldn’t miss it for any money in the world!” Iris completed.

Smiling at the hobbit woman’s curiosity, Brannen began.

“I was barely nineteen in 2809, under the chieftainship of Arathorn, that some years later would be father to Aragorn, the Estel you know. I was with a scouting party west of Bree, we had information that followers of the deceased Witch-King of Angmar planned to perform a ritual in the place known as the Barrow-Downs to enhance their magic powers, and we intended to prevent it if we could. The light of day was fading when a heavy mist surrounded us, and I got lost of the group. I shouted, trying to find them, and heard voices always further and further. I ran in the direction where I thought the voices were coming, stumbled on something and fell forward. I thought I had hit my head, because next thing I knew it was day again. I was worried because I couldn’t find any of my companions and there was no track no be seen. I wandered for some time and noticed the sun was setting again when I found a road. It was very different from what I knew of the Great East Road, but I took anyway because I hoped to reach Bree and from there to have news of my companions and head back to our settlement. I had no idea of how far I was from Bree or any other known place.”

Iris could relate to the situation.

“I have some experience in stumbling and falling in a place you didn’t know existed, I know how it feels.”

The dúnedain nodded.

“Then you know how confused I was and can imagine my shock when I heard the sound of a jeep coming in my direction. I imagine it was just a little less than the shock of the driver when he saw a man in leather armour and a drawn sword facing him from the middle of the road. Poor Tom, I’ll never forget his face!”

“So you came to know him?”

“Yes, mister Thomas was a blessing in a young lost lad’s life. He stopped the jeep, stepped out of it with raised hands and talked to me very calmly. Later I would learn that he was used to strange things happening in that site, it was close to an indian cemetery and all kind of bizarre thing made its apparition in the neighbourhood. |when he was sure I was mad of flesh and bone he convinced me to enter the jeep and took me to his house. He and his wife, lady Elizabeth, treated me like a son for the time I lived there.”

“And how long has it been?”

“Almost two years. As we didn’t know how to send me back, I offered to help Tom with the horses, so I wouldn’t be a weigh on them, I would not feel comfortable living on their expenses when I could do some of his tough chores.”

“And how did know my mother?”

“Marcia… Tom and Beth worked for her mother, Lorraine. I refuse to call her ‘lady’. I got there by the end of winter, and when spring came it brought the most precious flower to me. Your mother came to the horse farm to spend some time, she was a very skilled painter and wanted to work a little with natural scenes and the horses too. I never understood why Lorraine had the horse farm, she never went there, which was lucky for us. It didn’t take long for us to fall in love. Having being risen by a witch made it easy for her to believe I was from another world, and we used to spend hours just talking about our worlds. It was easier for her to explain things, she could always show it on TV or rent a VHS, while all I could do was to tell her tales of my world.” He made a short pause, arranging his thoughts. “I had already decided I would not look for a way to come back, that I would stay at her side in her world, when we discovered she was pregnant. We were enthralled, we couldn’t be more overjoyed, but then… Lorraine found it out, of course. And she was quite upset to find out the reason why her daughter spent so much time in the horse farm. The day she went to the farm… it was terrible. I was both poor and a _muggle_ , whatever it means in the witch society, so I was unacceptable for her standards. Later we found out she married Marcia’s father because he was rich, albeit being a _muggle_ , but when Marcia was born a _muggle_ too her good friends in witchery cast her out. Her hope was to marry Marcia to a wizard so she could have grandchildren that were not _muggles_ , and that made me a nightmare for her. Long story made short, we ran away, Tom and Beth helped us to hide, and you were born. It’s been too a long time since, but I will never forget the feeling of your tiny hand holding my finger, your golden halo of hair…”

This time the tough warrior was unable to hold back his tears, and let them flow freely down his cheeks. Gwendolin wiped them with her fingers, still in shock from all the information she had to process in so a little time, and to know how much she had been loved by a father she didn’t remember. But he had more to say yet.

“Lorraine found us. She convinced us that she regreted being against us, that she wanted the best for you, and offered for us to live in her mansion. I had my doubts, but Marcia… Marcia was too good, too innocent, too confident… We went. As soon as we stepped into her living room she cried at me that she would send me back to the place I belonged and begun to chant a spell, and I was stuck, I could not move. Two employees from Lorraine held Marcia away from me, you were in her arms, crying. I could do nothing, none of us could do anything but to stare at each other in horror as she finished the spell and Marcia, you, everything faded from my sight. I was back in the Barrow Downs, twelve years after having disappeared. My people deemed me insane, it took a long time and effort for them to understand that I was myself.”

“It is all right, Daddy, it’s all right… We’re together now, ok?”

“We are… but for how long?”

Then it hit her. How could she go back to earth when she had finaly found her father? That is, if it was true that he was her father…

“Wait! How can it be that you were barely nineteen when you went to earth and now you’re so old when I am just twenty-two? You cannot be my father!”

“What? But I am! This is the ring of the house of Túrion! You _are_ my daughter!”

“Mister Brannen, may I ask your age?”

He sent a severe look at the young woman who demanded on him.

“I’m one hundred seventy five, until mid winter. Why?”

Now her expression was of disbelief.

“You’re kidding! What kind of fool do you take me for? Nobody lives that long, mister! What’s the next lie?”

Iris was next to her and held her arm.

“Hey, Gwen, wait! I don’t know if someone told you yet, but there’s a time mismatch between our worlds. Don’t you remember your father saying it had been twelve years here while he spent less than two years there? I waited four years to come back here, but it’s been twenty-eight years for Bilbo. The time doesn’t run the same way in every place!”

Still doubtfull and confused, Gwendolin kept her gaze on the man.

“But over hundred-seventy years, Iris? Nobody lives that long!”

Brannen held her gaze, gray-blue eyes shining proudly.

“I’m a Dúnedain from the House of Túrion, that rarely mingled with lesser men. For your information, the numenoreans used to live up to thrice the life span of ordinary men.”

“Wow. And I was happy because hobbits live a little longer…”

“This is… this is too much for me!”

With that, a confused Gwendolin – or was it Gondolin? – ran out of the infirmary, tears running down her cheeks and a huge silvery snow dog running beside her, leaving behind a stunned hobbit woman and an elderly man with an extended hand trying to grasp the thin air, where someone he waited for for more than a century was just a moment before.

“What did I…”

“Nothing, mister Brannen, just keep calm and I’ll talk to her, ok?”

He looked at Iris as his lifeguard.

“Ok. And may the Force be with you.”

 


	54. Simple Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, thank you very much for your patience and continued support, I’m barely having time to write, so here goes a short chapter to make up for next week’s absence, as I’m going to my mother’s 75th birthday party and really wont have time to write.

“This. Is. Not. Fair!”

Each of her angry words was pointed by a hard stab on the poor dummy that had the bad luck to be in her path when Gwendolin reached the training arena. After leaving her father in the healing house, the distraught woman ran upstairs to the only place she felt fit for her in that moment. It was not her nature, never had been, but now it was the only thing that came to her mind when she thought about how to release her feelings.

“Not. Fair!”

She took her blades from where they showed only the hilts and begun a new attack, this time kicking strategic points before each stab, which would have brought any male enemy to his knees before she ever used the knives at all.

“Gwen, what’s the point in this? You met your father, isn’t it a good thing?”

Some of the straw that filled the dummy fell to the floor when Gwendolin retrieved her blades again.

“Iris, can’t you see what I lost? I could have had my daddy all my life long, and it. Was. Denied. To me!”

Her last words were accompanied by a kind of dance around the dummy that mixed hits with her fists and elbows and diagonal cuts with her knives. The lower part of an arm was hangingloosely from a strip of fabric. Some dwarves who were sparring nearby came closer to watch her.

“But now you found him, I know it’s not the same, but you can make up for so many things you didn’t have in the past!”

“My grandma took my daddy from me! She didn’t have the _right_!”

Her latest blow made the dummy’s head to rest on its shoulder at an odd angle.

“No, she didn’t, but you have him back now.”

“Do I? Do I?” Herbody moved with a deadly gracefulness as each of the ‘ _internal organs’_ of the dummy was stabbed with surgical precision twice, one with her right, then one with her eft, just to be sure. “He is a Dúnedain, a ranger who wanders here and there in the wild, and I am just an Earthling with no skill but to put some pieces of fabric together. Even if he allows me to stay by him, what good would I be to him?”

Each main ‘ _blood vessel’_ of the poor dummy was being cut open, except for the wrist of the arm that was already mangled.

“If I had grown up with him I could be useful, I could fight at his side, but that repulsive, sickening and nauseating jerk of an purblind, muzzy, thick-headed brute beast of an idiotic dimwit and mindless, dull, imbecile and slaphappy ninny droll of a _witch_ sent him away from me!”

“I see.” Iris smirked and took the manged arm of the dummy from the ground where it fell, carefull to be far enough of the knives that made for the dummy’s heart again and again. “You are angry because your father is a warrior and you can’t be by him because you ain’t.”

“Precisely!” A precise movement finished to behead the dummy and a kick sent the straw ball a couple of yards away. “Don’t you see I would be totally useless in a fight?”

Iris made an effort to muffle a laughter.

“Gwen…”

“Yes?”

“Can you take some steps away from where you are, please?” The woman obeyed with a frown, not grasping what her friend meant with that. “Now, can you look back to where you were ‘killing’ that poor dummy, please?”

“I was not trying to ‘kill’ it, I was just practicing some self defence movements Aredhel taught me!”

That she said with her back still to the dummy, pointing behind her with a knife. Iris put her hand on the blonde’s elbow and made her to turn around.

The ground of the training arena, up to a seven feet radius of the dummy’s post, was covered with pieces of straw and fabric used to fill it and give its shape; an arm was missing, as well as the head, and a leg was almost severed; most of the filling of the torso was spread around it, coming out in wisps from both front and back. Gwendolin’s jaw fell a little.

“Gwen, if this was only your self defence, I don’t want to be on the wrong side of your anger the day you decide to really hurt someone.”

The woman was in shock for the second time that day.

“I… I didn’t mean…”

“I hope your phrase ends with ‘ _I didn’t mean that I’m useless in a fight_ ’, right?

Gwendolin had sheated her knives and now fidgeted with the ring in its chain around her neck.

“What a mess have I done! Mister Dwalin will get mad at me and, and…”

Iris threw the dummy’s arm in Gwendolin’s direction.

“You’re impossible! Now come, let’s fix a nice dinner for your daddy, you both have tons of things to chat.”

 

000ooo000

 

“I’m glad to know Gwen is getting good terms with her father. It was a surprise, though, she was so completely outlandish, none would suspect her to be half-Dúnedain.”

“That is, Ferumbras, almost a Mexican soap opera, I’d say.”

“No idea of what a Mexican soap opera is, but if you say so, Iris, then it must be weird indeed.”

The hobbits were drinking an ale at The Tumbled Chair, one of their favorite inns in Erebor, as mistr Derkin, the owner, was quite short for a dwarf and insisted that his furniture followed his own stature, so it was almost hobbit sized. It made the place more comfortable for them, who didn’t need to let their feet dangling from their seats.

“And who am I to say anything about weirdness?”

“You can be as weird as you wih, sweetie, as long as you remain in Middle-earth AND by my side.”

They laughed at Bilbo’s possessiveness as he held the red-haired lass cloer to him, only to be punched affectionately in the ribs.

“Iris is not weird, it’s the rest of the world who are boring!”

“Thank you, Beryl, I’ll remember to quote you next time someone calls me weird.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of it in the Shire.”

“Or, at, least, plenty of it from the Sackville-Bagginses.”

“The Bracegirdles are not much better, though.”

“Yes, but they are not kin.”

“Ok, I won’t worry myself beforehand about my future neighbours.” – Iris weaved the Sackville-Baggins issue away. “We have plenty to worry with our own journey there to.”

“Well, most of the way you know already, though we may take a different route through the Misty Mountains.”

“That sounds wonderful, I don’t fancy another trip through the tunnels of the goblins.”

Ferumbras stretched his arms, as if the mention of goblins made his back ache, and turned to Bilbo.

“By the way, we’re not taking that Cold Fells route, are we?”

Bilbo took a sip of ale and sighed.

“No, most probably not. I’m yet to discuss it with our escort, but they are having a meeting today with the elves of Lórien and the reangers, exactly to discuss these issues, and tomorrow I’ll have a meeting with the wizards, Gwendolin and Ellen to discuss certain… details of my former journey, while the others will be in Dale for a meeting about the recent orc attack. It seems our current adventure is more prone to bureacratics than anything else.”

“With my aunt around? Sure!” She nibbled at a slice of cheese. “By the way of tomorrow, who is in the mood for an outing? Ellen and Kíli will be attending different meetings, Bilbo and my father with her, my sister and two cousins in the infirmary, so I thought it would be nice to take the remaining cousins for a pic-nic in the woods nearby. Anyone willing to go?”

Primula laid her head on Drogo’s shoulder.

“It sounds nice, but I’m feeling so sleepy lately that I don’t think I would enjoy it as due.”

“And I’ll stay by Primula, of course.”

Dudo slapped his brother in the thigh.

“As if anyone would think you’d leave your flower alone for as long as a minute!”

“Ok, and the remaining of you?”

Iris’ wishfull look was frustrated by Beryl.

“We would love to, but we already promised to Bofur to spend some hours with him and Ori for them to record the hobbit different uses for reference in the library, and designs and patterns so Erebor ay produce jewelry fit for our tastes, so it can become a future trade item.”

“Wow, Beryl, that’s an idea indeed!”

Paladin completed.

“And Bofur said he ale would be free!”

When she stopped laughing, Iris shook her head, amused.

“This explains everything!”

“I’ll go with you.” Offered Ferumbras. “I’m used to the royal brats and a little sun and fresh air will do me good.”

“That will be splendid!” The new member of the family hugged him warmly. “Thank you, Ferumbras!”


	55. Outing

The rhythmic clip-clop of the hoves on the cobblestone that paved the road from Erebor to Dale could make one to sleep, if to sleep were possible while riding. By the amount of people going to the town of men, the meetig could almost be held in Erebor itself, but King Bard wished to show his own hospitality to the delegations of other realms, potential allies in any issue against orcs. Besides, he wanted some of his own councillors to attend the meeting, and several of the visitors wished to spend some time (and money) in Dale, too.

Half a mile away from the front Gate there was a brief halt, as the small Company of the Pic-nic, as Fíli named them, would diverge from the main group and stroll in the woods. Kíli dismounted with his younger one who was riding with him, and helped Iris down from her poney. Dwalin delivered Lyn safely on the ground, greeting her goodbye with a headbutt, and then the same with Fíli, who had been riding with Bifur, talking cheerfully to him in Iglishmêk. Ferumbras was helped to get down from the poney the hobbit shared with Leri, and so the stables’ boy had to ride back guiding only one poney besides the one he would be riding. The wards had come on foot so far, happy to warm their limbs with the mild gait they developed to keep up with the slow riding group. Kíli kissed each of his children and his Little Sister before mounting again. Now the riders would go faster, and some of them would be more able to focus on the upcoming meeting.

\---xxx---

“The roads in Rhovanion are far better than last time I visited, King Kíli.”

The dwarf smiled at the praise.

“Thank you, Lady Arwen! A pitty you were not able to grace our kingdom with your presence more often, else you’d seen the slow and hard labour it took to make it so.”

And he meant it. Arwen was one of the few elves that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield met in their quest to reclaim Erebor that brought only good memories to them.

“I moved to Lórien soon after your wedding. Not only it is further away but also the paths are more dangerous than from Imladris.”

“More dangerous than crossing the Misty Mountains through the tunnels of the goblins…?"

Arwen’s laughter was like rain falling on crystals.

“Any margin of the Anduin we choose is too close to the Misty Mountains to be safe; and to round Mirkwood by it’s south borders… too close to Dol Guldur…”

Kíli tilted hs head at her statement.

“I thought Dol Guldur had been wracked down soon after the Retake. Gandalf, Lady Galadriel…?”

She lifted her chin as if in defiance.

“They’ve done what they were able to; but the Darkness still lingers in more than a single place, because none is able to wipe it out from greedy and selfish hearts.”

“Nor from twisted and treacherous ones, and orcs and goblins have them in wholesale.”

“This they have.”

\---xxx---

Dwalin had fallen a little behind his king and brother-in-law when the noble she-elf started to talk to him, and the approaching Legolas took the chance to seek him for a conversation that surely would bemuse him.

“I’m glad we are able to talk as we ride, mister Dwalin.”

“That I am, laddie; though I’ve heard about some elves who are unable to do both things at the same time.”

Legolas rolled his eyes and counted to ten, knowing his statement had been too stupid to be countered any way differently by the dwarf.

“What I mean is… we have postponed a _certain talk_ for too long. Now it seems the perfect time to have it.”

The dwarf chuckled, misinterpreting the elf on purpose.

“No need to worry about me, my father has given me _that talk_ decades ago.”

“This is _not_ what I meant!”

Indignant Legolas was funnier than angry Legolas, and Dwalin enjoyed every bit of it.

“Oh; so, you wish _me_ to give you _that talk_?”

“What?! No! It is _not_ the talk I’m talking about!”

Dwalin looked up to the clouds with a side smile at his lips.

“So, what do ya want to talk to me, laddie?”

Being repeatedly called a ‘ _laddie_ ’ by someone who was one sixth or less of his own age was being annoying enough, and he growled under his breath, in a quite unelvish manner.

“What are you doing in Lady Aredhel’s quarters every night? Don’t think I’m stupid enough to leave it unnoticed.”  
            Dwalin faked a surprised look.

“Oh, that! But I thought she was old enough to make her own decisions…”

“And that I am.”

Aredhel had come closer to them when she noticed her nephew approaching Dwalin and now made her own defence. Legolas was unhappy.

“Of course you are, but…”

“But what, Lelly? My… friendship to Dwalin upsets you?”

“Not more than being called Lelly!”

“Then we can make a deal. I don’t call you Lelly, even if it is what your mother called you until her last day, and you don’t pester my best friend.”

It was harder than a slap in the face.

“I don’t want to talk about my mother right now. It is a private matter that is still being… digested.”

“And whom I allow or not into my chambers is a private matter, just the same.”

Legolas groaned at her indisputable logic, torn between fusilading his aunt or her dwarf friend with his eyes. Aredhel impassive gaze was lost in the horizon, and Dwaling tried not really hard to conceal his laughter.

“It is a matter of reputation, and once it affects the family as a whole, it is of my concern.”

Now Aredhel deigned to send him a stern look.

“If you’re worried about family reputation, then concern yourself about your father’s behavior, not mine.”

Legolas was loosing acount of the slaps in the face he collected that morning. Noticing Tauriel had her lips closed in a thin line didn’t help either, as she used that trick to hide her smile. Taking a deep breath, he conceded at last.

“As you wish, milady.”

She graced him with a smile.

“Good aunty’s boy.”

 

000ooo000

 

The mild autumn sun was not enough to break the chill of the morning, but the three younger ones of Durin’s line were excited ti be out of the Mountain nonetheless. Kim took turns with Fíli to carry Hazel, and the huge brown rabbit visibly enjoyed the attention. Lyn also helped to carry the bunny, rubbing gently the soft fur behind the ears, to what Hazel closed her eyes and nuzzled the raven black hair at the dwelf’s neck.

Considering the recent orc raid, Dwalin insisted that at least four wards accompanied the pic-nic party, even if Iris protested that she would be armed too. He would have gone himself, weren’t for the meeting in Dale, precisely on th subject of orcs. His knowledge as warlord was more needed than his skils as bodyguard, but he granted four of the best were assigned to the task.

So it was that half a mile away from the front Gate of Erebor the small Company of the Pic-nic left the main road and the large group who headed on hoof to Dale. Slender horses of elven breed, sturdy pnies of the dwarven stables, and heavy built stalions of the Dúnedain party. Beorn used no mount, and his black squirrel went merrily perched on his shoulders. The men of Dale and Lake Town who attended the wedding party had already left two days prior, but even so the group counted around forty war hardened souls, which contrasted with the jolly group that strolled carelessly into the woods.

“Are you not straining yourself, Ferumbras?”

Iris asked her new cousin after about two hours of easy walking while chatting, worried that his limp would cause him pain in the uneven terrain.

“Not really, thank you! The open air does me lots of good, be sure.”

“I see. I don’t know how my aunt manages to live inside the Mountainmost of the time. I’d stifle if I had to.” Noticing too late that she was surrounded by people who actually _belonged_ inside a mountain, Iris tried to fix it. “I mean, she has a seasonal depression, she always had problems with being away from sunlight…”

It ws Leri who made her fell comfortable again, with his soft and caring voice.

“It is not a problem, Iris, when you know how to handle the light, and at that we dwarvs excel. Besides her personal balcony, where she gets the morning sun and has all those flowers to make her feel good, King Kíli made an indoors sundeck be built for her, for when it is raining, snowing, or simply dark outside.”

“Indoors sundeck? Please enlighten me, I can’t imagine such a thing.”

The babysitter smiled proudly at the chance to show the dwarven technology.

“It is a room where crystals and mirrors are set in such a way that half a dozen torches are able to lighten it as if it were daylight. She uses it mostly during winter, but once she all but moved her office there to, when the king was away in the Blue Mountains longer than planned and she had less news than she craved for.”

“Wow, that must have been hard on her, she worries too much.” _Not to say that she is control maniac_ , Iris thought to herself, but didn’t mention it aloud.

True, true.” They walked some more and Leri took charge of carrying the pregnant rabbit. “By the way, what is a cell phone, if I might be so bold to ask?”

“What?”

“I remember her talking to herlsef that all she wished in the world was a cell phone, and why, oh why, didn’t it be invented yet.”

“Oh, so!” The hobbit giggled. “It is, uh, a device to talk to people who are afar.” It was the simpler answer, even if not complete. It made her wonder how much she was yet to miss all kind of device she as used to in her birthworld.

Daydreaming that living with Bilbo would be compensation enough, if her wedding night was a valid exemple, she didn’t notice they were close to a creek that chanted merrily on its stone bed.

“Look, cousin, isn’t this place perfect?”

Lyn cried with delight. They had reached a glade past a path of firewood trees that were some years yet frombeing cut, and an assortment of nut trees made the joy of the resident squirrels, who eyed them with suspicion. The undergrowth made the place cozy, with both firethorn and viburnum adding orange and red colour to the surrounding. A large flat stone cropped out of the bank of the creek, offering a nice place to sit down and spread the pic-nic table cloth. The ground, covered in autumn leaves, was an invitation to play, fro the children at least. The sun was high in the sky.

“Yes, Lyn, perfect! Shall we eat something? It must be breakfast time!”

“But we already _had_ breakfast, Iris!” Protested Fíli, the picky one of the bunch.

“…Second breakfast…” Chimed Ferumbras, to Iris’ relief.

“Ah, finally someone who understands me!”

Fíli kept his pout.

“I ate a whole bowl of oatmeal with raisins and honey, I don’t want to eat now!”

“That’s so usual when he wants to eat sweets instead of healthy food…” Leri mentioned to the hobbits, and then turned to the boy. “Fíli son of Kíli, if I inspect your pockets and find caramels in there, you’ll be in trouble, laddie…”

“But, mister Leri!”

Protested the blond, but he was saved by his sister.

“ _Mi’ter_ Leri can _in’pect_ _Kee_ , _Kee_ _eated_ aaall candies from the _pa’ty_!”

“Then I’ll inspect… under your arms!”

Leri tickled the little dwelf, who was laughing even before he touched her. Fíli smuggled his caramels to Lyn, so the babysitter wouldn’t find them, and joined into the fray.

Ferumbras and Iris sat down to spread the food on the table cloth, and Lyn handled a meaty sandwich to each of the wards who stood in readiness, one at a time, as she knew they wuld not lower their guard all at the same time. They worked at her house since she was a baby, and were like members of her extended family, even if their duties demanded that they payed more attention to the surroundings than to the children themselves.

“Man, I’ll miss them when I go to the Shire!”

“They are lovely, ain’t them?” Ferumbras smiled, covering a loaf of bread with honey. “I didn’t imagine dwarves were so… lovable.”

“I guess all children are like that, even in a tough race as the dwarves. But then my journey with the Company taught me a lot about them, beyond any prejudice.”

“Bilbo had dwarves visiting him once and again, I’ve been told, but I never had the chance to personally meet them, as I live in Tookborough, not in Hobbiton, and traveling dwarves seem to be kind of shy of strangers.”

Iris noticed where Ferumbras’ eyes were set and smiled at herself.

“But traveling hobbits are not that shy, huh?”

Ferumbras blushed at her insinuation, but was quick to pay it back.

“Of course not, else Bilbo and you would not have fallen in love while hunting dragons!”

Both laughed heartedly and watched the children play, the three of them having tackled down the babysitter and tickling him mercilessly. One of the wards had gone to scout around sometime before and didn’t come back yet, but the four of them had been doing this the whole morning, so none payed much attention to it anymore.

“Cousin Iris, can we bathe in the creek? Mister Leri says its too cold for it, but if you allowed us…”

Lyn begged Iris, and the hobbit could see the wishfull eyes of her dwelf cousin, but…

            “If mister Leri said no, I won’t dispute his reasoning. He knows better than me what your mom would allow or not.”

            The spokesgirl of the youngsters pouted.

“But we were playing and got hot, and soon it will be winter and none will allow us to play in the woods or to bath in the river…”

Iris could see the elven side of the girl, and wondered if it was really fair to keep them from to play a little in the creek to prevent a possible, although not certain, bad cold. And, after all, dwarves were very resilient to diseases and elves didn’t get sick…

“Mister Leri, they ain’t really _that_ susceptible to the weather, are they? She sent the babysitter her own wishfull look. “I mean, they won’t really get sick from bathing a little in this bit of water, will they…?”

Leri scratched his head, not really agreeing with Iris, but then, whatever…

“Lady Iris, see, it is not that I’m afraid they’ll get sick, but… can you imagine how hard will it be to get them _out of the water again_?”

Iris considered her own behavior when she was under ten and agreed.

“Ok, I promise I’ll help you with this.”

\---xxx---

The dwelflings played in the creek for a long time, and there was no need to coax them out of it: a small fire with some sausages being roasted in wooden sticks had done the job without effort. After eating and resting for a while, just enough for their little bellies to settle the food down, the little ones begun a spirited hide-and-seek game – or, search-and-destroy, as they liked better to call it. The best one in searching was, of course, Hazel, and also the hardest to find.

So it was that in a turn when Kim was the seeker, the rabbit jumped through a bush beside Iris and the hobbit noticed it didn’t stop, but the rustle in the undergrouth continued and seemed to be going further than the playing field that was agreed. Iris didn’t think a rabbit would really follow the rules of a game, be it from Rhosgobel end belonging to a wizard or not, and got alarmed when Kim rushed past her, running after Hazel. If the rabbit lost itself was not a major issue, but if Iris lost her little cousin in the woods…

“ _Hazy_!”

The girl shouted.

“Kim! Come back, you’ll get lost!”

“ _Hazy_ is scared, _Kee_ must get _Hazy_!”

Unable to know what scared the rabbit, Iris jumped into action and through the bush behind Kim.

“I’ll get her, milady!”

One of the wards shouted and tried to make his way through the bushes, but Iris dismissd him for a very practical reason.

“No, the path is narrow even for me!”

And so it was, twigs entagling in her curly hair and the sound of Kim calling Hazel getting more distant. Finally Iris unsheated one of her swords to cut through the weeds, until she found a way out of the last firethorn shrub. To her surprise, Kim was sitting on the ground, half hidden under a low branch, Hazel in her lap, both very quiet and silent.

“Kim, wha…”

“Shh!” Kim cut her cousin short and whispered. “Ugly.”

Iris dropped her voice to a matching whisper, trying to comb her hair with her free hand.

“What is ugly?”

“ _Mon’ter_.”

Iris puffed.

“Kim, there are no monsters here; and even if there were, don’t you think me and the wards could get down a single monster?”

Kim shook her head ‘ _no_ ’, looking really scared.

“Many _mon’ter. Hazy telled_.”

Now it was Iris’ turn to get scared. Kim could be a very imaginative child, but she was no liar, and her link with Hazel had been proven true more than once.

“The others…”

An awfull shriek cut through the air, making the hair in Iris’ neck to bristle; worried to her core, she signalled Kim to follow her under the firethorn bushes, a finger on her lips to imply silence. When they were about hundred feet from the clearing, Iris signalled in Iglishmêk for Kim to stay put and wormed her way through the undergrowth in the silent mode only a hobbit could be able, hearing the unmistakable sounds of fight growing louder.


	56. Meeting in Erebor

With her head still confused by everything she learnt about her own life along the previous two days, Gwendolin – or should she call herself Gondolin, as her mother intended her name to be? – started her tale of a set of movies she watched several years before. Lots of comings and goings, of recalling meaningless details, of mixing up characters and places, and she was done, feeling guilty for not having paid more attention, for not having read the books, for not knowing what was impossible for her to know beforehand. And now it was no more a matter that would affect only people she didn’t know or barely knew, it would affect her father and, if she were courageous enough to stay, herself.

Gandalf looked at her gravely, while Bilbo fingered his pocket and Ellen scribbled furiously on a wide white paper from Gwen’s sketching notebook, glad for having a rollerball pen in her hands for the first time since Mahal knew when.

“These are serious matters that you bring to us, young Dúnedain. By Ellen’s, erm,  problem while scrutinizing your mind, we can be sure you have knowledge of the future, but now we must consider what to do with this knowledge. The risk of changing a thing here and mess what would be a successful outcome, despite the casualties, is not to be ignored. I want to hear the opinion of everyone present, even if it is not our task alone to decide which paths to choose.”

The grey wizard surveiled the remaining of the board, hoping to spot someone willing to be the first to speak up an opinion.

“It is already done.” Marked Wolfram, all eyes on him. “The butterfly effect. My sister’s presence here, and now my daughter’s coming, have changed the initial states of the nonlinear system already.”

“Much to Dáin Ironfoot’s disgust, I assure you.”

The elf couldn’t hide her amusement.

“You may think it funny, Queen Ellen, but your memory of the possible past does not grant Erebor’s part in the future of Middle-earth, in this War of the Ring, let us call it, will be better than it would be if things had been otherwise.”

Swallowing Gandalf’s scolding along with her pride, Ellen took a chalk from a box and began to reinforce some lines on the wide map at the wall. It was not as detailed as the one Ori made from the neighbourhoods, but had always been enough to plan caravans and commercial routes.

“That’s true, Mister Grey.” She began, using his name the wrong way as she did the first time they met. “But it is also true that the East Road, from the Blue Mountains to the Hoarwell is safer now than it has been for a long while prior to the Retake, and from what I know from both Dáin’s followers and the ones who remained true to Thorin Oakenshield, there would be far less people travelling this road and granting it’s safeness. The survival of the first line of Dúrin was a gain for everyone, as I’m sure Dáin would not be able to sew the treaties we have with Mirkwood, too.”

“What is done, is done!” Bilbo said with finality, not wishing to consider the chance of someone taking Iris back to her world for the sake of any future. “Now we must decide what to do with this trinket.” He took a breath and faced Gwendolin. “Where did you say it must be thrown?”

Gandalf shook his head to the goodwill of the Halfling who years ago fainted at the idea of a dragon. How little was the power of a firebreather if compared to Sauron!

“In a volcano in the middle of Mordor.” The woman answered.

“That is Mount Doom, and the cracks that lead to its innards are called the Samath Naur.” Radagast stated, grimly.

“So. And…” The hobbit looked at the map trying to find said volcano. “How far is it from here?”

Gwendolin buried her hands in her fluffy hair, looking at Bilbo with despair in her eyes.

“Bilbo, no! It won’t work this way! One does not…” And she squeezed her eyes at Boromir’s quote, remembering his horrible death. “One does not simply walk into Mordor, not with the Nazgul around, not with Saruman trying to take the ring for himself!”

Gandalf scratched his beard and pondered what she said.

“Maybe, to walk into Mordor is the best course of action, if we consider the story you told. But to know that our effort in defeating Sauron after the demise of Smaug has only weakened him is a heavy blow to the White Council.”

“And to know the leader of our Order has fallen to the lust of the Ring is another one.” Completed Radagast.

Wolfram opened his mouth and raised his hand as if to speak out an idea, but closed it again like a fish.

“What was this?”

“Oh, nothing, really. I thought that maybe I could take the Ring to my world to keep it away from Sauron, but it would only attract him to any Gate available, and to have bands of orcs and worse than them pouring into there doesn’t seem a good idea.”

“No taking away, it must be destroyed!” Bilbo was still the more practical in the group. “Gwen, you said there were nine people marching in the beginning, because of the nine Ringwraiths.” The woman acquiesced with a nod. “Gandalf, can’t we reunite nine good fellows to do the job, like it was decided by Elrond in Gwen’s story? You can always count on me, you know.”

The grey haired wizard rested his forehead in his folded hands, feeling the weight of too great a responsibility for him to decide about it alone. Sauron was his burden, it was because of him that he left Valinor along with Radagast, Saruman, Alatar and Pallando. It was because of Sauron that he felt the urge to fix Smaug’s issue, at the risk of the first line of Durin, at the risk of so many innocent lives. Was it reasonable that he should decide on who would follow a path that lead to suffering and despair and no warranty of success?

“We will have to talk to others, but it seems a good idea. If we can reunite the same factors that granted the success in Gwendolin’s story…”

“Hmm, maybe…” The strategist in Ellen was speaking now, and she made some marks on the map while talking. “Here, the Ring bearer had success because the Eye of Sauron was looking in a different direction than where he was.”

“Yes, Aragorn took the army of Gondor and Rohan to the Black Gate.”

The elf turned to the woman, with a distrustful expression.

“I don’t know if Estel would be a good choice of a leader, he is too young and inexperienced.”

“Ellen, he  is the heir of Isildur, and you heard what Gwendolin told, he  is bound to lead the free peoples of Middle-earth in the War of the Ring.”

“I don’t doubt his potential to be a leader in due time, but, come on, he’s not even dry behind the ears! Who would follow him besides the Dúnedain?”

Bilbo cleared his throat.

“This is a point I must agree with Ellen. I’ve travelled with Estel since Bree, and even if he is exceptional in walking in the wild, it was obvious that he was glad to have Elrohir and Elladan taking the lead from Rivendell on.”

“You can be right, Bilbo, but what should we do? To wait until he is mature enough to lead an army?”

Gwendolin fidgeted at Gandalf’s question, and spoke out.

“It is not only Aragorn. What about the others? It was not Bilbo the Ring-bearer, he gave the ring to his son, and then, what about the other hobbits?”

“Gwendolin, knowing beforehand what we wouldn’t know even in the future, things may be shaped differently. We’ll warn Treebeard of Saruman’s treason, and there will be no need for any hobbits to risk themselves. And I won’t seek Saruman’s advice and get trapped in Orthanc, be sure.”

“But how will you become the White if you don’t fight the Balrog in Moria?”

The grey wizard looked down at his knotted fingers and his dirty mittens.

“It is not important what colour I’m called after, little one. I came overseas with the purpose of helping the free peoples to get rid of evil, and this I’ll do with the means I have.”

“But yes, it is!” Radagast seemed to come out of a slumber of deep meditation or of light sleep. “If you are to shoo the Nazgul and their flying steeds, it will not be in your current veiling, but one that lets your true form to show more clearly.”

Gandalf shook his head, unwilling to acknowledge the truth of those words, and dismissing whatever hidden power was supposed to come to his use.

“I’m sure we can do it together if you are there and both Pallando and Alatar can be summoned.”

“Humpf. Those two haven’t been seen since we came ashore, I would not count on them.”

“To count on them we cannot, but to make an effort to find them we must.”

“Uh, there is one more problem…”

“Yes, Gwendolin?”

“The leader of the Ringwraiths, the witch-king. There’s a prophecy, isn’t it so?”

Both wizards exchanged glances.

“Yes, yes, there is. It was uttered by Glorfindel that he will not be destroyed by the hand of man.”

“Erm, how do these prophecies work? I mean, what makes a prophet to prophesy something?”

“I don’t know where your question leads, miss Gwendolin…”

She began to break pieces of chalk between her fingers, nervous.

“It  is important. If it is simply words that come to the mind or the mouth of the prophet, it can be anything. But if the prophet says what he can say about something he  sees in the future, then it is a future that cannot be changed, isn’t it?”

“Probably…”

“I can see your logic, Gwen.” Intervened Wolfram. “If the prophecy means  certain people, not  any people who fulfil certain prerequisites, it will be fulfilled only by the ones the prophet saw beforehand, and no one else.”

“And this is the nature of some prophecies, though we should ask Glorfindel about the nature of this one.”

“Wow, does he live yet?” Her eyes shone with astonishment.

“Probably, if nothing befell him since last I saw him, a couple of months ago. And you should not be that surprised, he is younger than your preceptor. Anyway, why do you deem this so an important matter?”

“Because…” She took in a breath, unresigned that they didn’t see what was obvious to her; but then, she did watch the movies, and they didn’t. “If Théoden of Rohan is not even king yet, as you said, then he has no niece yet, is it right?”

“Well…”

“How can we make battle at the Black Gate if the Witch-king has not be defeated? It is  him who shatters the will to live and to fight from the warriors, we will have no army to fight if he is not destroyed first, and if we don’t distract the Eye of Sauron no hobbit will be able to destroy the Ring!”

“And what has it to do with Théoden’s…”

“Everything!” She was so excited that interrupting an elder seemed unimportant. “It is  she who stabs the Witch-king, her and one of the hobbits!”

Several heads nodded as comprehension downed on them.

“Not by the hand of man, indeed.”

“We must confirm the nature of the prophecy, but if your line of thought is right, no effort of ours to anticipate Sauron’s fall will be enough.”

“So it seems, Gandalf.” Wolfram considered. “Gwendolin told us a line of cause and consequence that leads to victory, and even if some events can be, let us say, interchanged for others, some milestones cannot be moved.”

Ellen moved the wide paper she had been scribbling before.

“Here, I signalled with a dot the events that seem to be unmovable in order but not in time, so we could be able to hasten them if we find it fitting; with a cross the ones that cannot be moved in time but maybe in order; and with a star the ones that cannot be moved in order nor in time.”

“And the unmarked ones?”

“These…” She smiled wickedly. “Are the ones we can play with.”

Bilbo looked at her with an indignant expression.

“Ellen Dwarvenheart,  to play is not a verb I feel comfortable to use when we talk about a future where I might be thrown down a volcano!”

She rolled her eyes with a ‘give me patience’ face.

“Bilbo, if we can avoid Saruman from getting really to Sauron’s side, if we are able to prevent Denethor from using the Palantir of Minas Tirith so he doesn’t get insane… That would mean lots of saved lives, do you see?”

The hobbit humphed, crossing his arms upon his belly.

“I see. But  to play still is not a good verb, no, it isn’t!”

“Argh, all right, I apologize for the improper word  used, is it fine for you this way?”

While they bickered, the wizards and Gwendolin studied Ellen’s notes, written in a hurried scribbling in Westron, the Common Language.

“Ellen, did you make a PCP here?” Wolfram asked his  I love to work with manufacture sister.

“Obvious!” She almost shouted back.

“So, I can read this like… last thing, the Ring is thrown into the Cracks of Doom; just previously, while the hobbits march to it, the armies of Gondor and Rohan march and fight at the Black Gate, led by Aragorn…”

“And this can only be accomplished after the Witch-king’s demise, and it depends on Théoden’s nice to be old enough and despaired enough to follow Théoden to war.”

“Can’t we avoid the  despair part? Some other kind of motivation, maybe?

“Maybe. But then she’ll have to be closely monitored while she grows up.”

“She hasn’t been monitored in the movies and she ended up quite a shieldmaiden.”

“If we could move this event in time it would avoid a lot of deaths.”

“Hah, and how do you plan to do it?” Knock on Minas Morgul doors and ask if the Witch-king is willing to show his ugly face so a Rohan girl can stab him, please?”

“It is true that the Nazgul won’t show themselves until they are in their full power, but…”

“But?”

“But wasn’t it him who stabbed Frodo in the first movie?”

“Yes, it was!”

“Can’t we make her meet him in this occasion?”

“Can’t we avoid this…  thing from happening? It is my  son you’re talking about!”

“Easy, Bilbo.”

“Easy, How can I just take it easy if…”

Wolfram cut his outburst with a quick pinching in the hobbit’s neck, that made him all but collapse back into his chair.

“What the…”

“An old Vulcan trick. To be a Trekkie since don’t know when must have some benefits.”

Only the Earthlings knew the meaning of what he spoke of, and laughed quietly while the resident wizards looked between themselves.

“We son’t know if Frodo will be strong enough to resist the will of the Ring, to throw it in the Cracks of Doom, even if he gets there some years prior and Sauron is weaker than he’ll be in the timing of the  movies .

“So, we have to hire Gollum? You’re kidding!”

“I don’t say  to hire him, but he is a pawn in the game that cannot be forgotten. Or, most probably, not simply a pawn.”

“Hey, if Gollum isn’t tortured by Sauron, he won’t reveal where the Ring is, and Sauron won’t send the Nazgul to search for Bagginses in the Shire and chase hobbits along the East Road to begin with.”

“Right. So, if we hunt Gollum and keep him caged, Sauron won’t know about the finding of the Ring.”

“But is it yet to happen or did it happen already? It’s been twenty-eight years since Bilbo found the Ring, a lot of things might have happened since.”

“Erm…”

“We don’t know?”

“No.”

“But we must find Gollum anyway, even if to be sure he revealed what he knows about  Baggins to Sauron.

“Nice. First thing, a hunt for Gollum.”

“Second thing?”

“Warn the remaining of the White Council that Saruman is not reliable anymore.”

Ellen drummed her fingers on the table.

“”Hm. Is’nt there any chance that we bring him back to the light side of the Force?”

“What?”

“Can’t he be un-corrupted? If he is the leader of your Order, he is powerfull, he could help us a lot if he were back to our side.”

Gandalf rubbed his forehead as if trying to get rid of a headache.

“It is hard to believe he is betraying us. I don’t know yet how to address this issue.”

Radagast walked to the wide map on the wall.

“Orthanc is too close to Moria for to keep him from hiring orcs to his service, if he has the mind set to it. If he already began…”

“Gwendolin, what was the size of Saruman’s army in the movie?”

“The one he sent to attack Rohan?”

“Yes.”

“Ten thousand, I think.”

“Ten thousand… let me make some calculations here…”

While Ellen scribbled, the others kept discussing the matter.

“Gwen, you mentioned a birthday party when Bilbo gave his ring to Frodo.”

“Yes, it was his one-hundred-eleventh birthday.”

“Right. Bilbo is seventy-eight now, so the things that run in what you watched are to happen in kind of thirty years from now. We have time to plan.”

The blonde tried to smile.

“Maybe more time than even. I didn’t read the books, but Sister Whoopi did, and once she said there were years between the party and Frodo going away from the Shire. The director just made things seem to be hurried. Then I thought it made sense, because Bilbo was so much older when Frodo and all the others reached Rivendell than when he left the Shire…”

“Time enough to breed an army.” Ellen finished her calculations. “At the rate orcs are able to breed, if Saruman has ten couples now he can reach ten thousand in less than forty years.”

Gandalf dug his fingers in his hair, looking perturbed.

“He must be stopped. But how?”

“We could…”

Any opinion Wolfram was about to vocalize was cut off by the door being slammed open by a dishevelled and alarmed Iris, dragging a frightened Kim behind her.

“What…?

“The goblins took the children””

 


	57. Kidnapped

            “What?”

Ellen cried, wide eyed, unwilling to believe what her ears heard. Kim run to her and threw herself in the elf’s arms.

“The ugly _gob’ins_ _taked Lee_ and _Fee_ , Mama!”

“Goblins? Where? What happened? What of the others?” The elf cried again, feeling the blood drain from her face.

“We were picnicking by a streamlet about two hours west from here; I went after Kim through some bushes and…” Iris stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Bilbo’s head dropped on the table. “What happened to my husband?”

“Uh, he, erm, was a little upset and I convinced him to take a nap and relax a bit…”

Wolfram tried and failed to make up an explanation for the unconscious hobbit, but his daughter knew better than to believe in his rags of excuses and pointed this out with angry hands on her hips and a murderous tone of voice.

“Daddy, you could not convince a fish to swim if you had to!”

“Well, I…”

Iris walked to Bilbo and shook him awake, albeit that by her urgency she was almost knocking him off again.

“What? Iris? Weren’t you picnicking?”

“I was. Now listen.” She picked up the story from where she ran after Kim. “Hazel ran from us and I went after Kim through some bushes and when I found her we heard a cry, I got back and heard a fight, and…”

Iris’ quick speech was interrupted by a worried Bilbo, who took her face in his hands and inspected every inch of her skin.

“Did you fight? Are you hurt?”

“No, there were too much goblins, I think ten to one, I kept hidden…”

Ellen sat down with Kim in her lap, her face hidden in her hand.

“My babies… they took my babies…”

Wolfram put a reassuring arm around her shoulders, but felt useless, having no clue on how to deal with that kind of crisis. But Gandalf had.

“Iris, what did you see? What did you hear? Be hasty but don’t skip any detail, any information can be important.”

“I’ll tell you everything.

 

000ooo000

 

            Iris disappeared in the bushes, following Kim and the crazy rabbit. After some minutes, Ferumbras peeped his head from behind the tree he was hiding.

            “Hey, this is against the rules!”

            “Wouldn’t Hazel _search_ this time? Questioned Leri from behind a boulder.

            “The one who searches can hide too?” Asked Fíli from under the table cloth.

            “No, it…”

            Lyn’s answer was cut short by a loud cry and the sound of crashing weapons. She looked around her in anguish and made her best to keep hidden in the tree she climbed to hide from Hazel. What she saw was appalling.

            From the direction of the creek, up where the nut trees thickened, several pale forms poured towards a single ward, who swung his long shafted axe with dexterity, but soon was overcome by the number of goblins who kept coming. The other three wards had been fast in coming to his aid, and their weapons tasted lots of black blood before the hands that wielded them laid still, warm dwarf blood soaking the land that had been so hard to retake.

            Lyn clamped a hand over her own mouth to suppress the sobs that refused to stay down her throat, tears streaming down her face. Karit had been the first one to fall. He was a strong, heavy built dwarf who moved from the Blue Mountains in the first caravan after the Retake. Like Bofur and Bombur, his family was from Khazad-Dum before its fall, and remained faithful to the line of Durin after Smaug came and even after the Battle of Azanulbizar, where his father fell. He was one of the strong arms that stood by her mother when the Council of Lords suggested that the Queen was too frail to perform her duties while pregnant with her third child, she.

            “ _The Queen is performing her most important duty, and if she is too frail to leave her chambers and attend your meetings, be sure I’ll be her ears and voice when need be. Specially her ears_.”

            That was what Karit said, Lyn had been told. The Council demanded that he should be fired from the guard for his outburst, for speaking up his mind when his place was to keep watch on the Council members’ safety. Instead, the grey bearded dwarf was risen to the royal family wards.

            The flashing of Zindrin’s double swords I the sun claimed Lyn’s attention as he sliced goblin limbs as if they were butter. Zindrin was one of the younger wards, born in exile like her father. He used to tell her tales about her deceased uncle Fíli, as they were of the same age, telling her how they sparred together to gain skill in twin falchions, and that her father didn’t like him when they were children because Kíli wanted Fíli’s attention solely for him, and Fíli, being a little older, liked to hang around with friends that were not only his baby brother. Zindrin took a couple of broken bones that would have been Kíli’s if a couple of bullies had their way when they found the younger Durin without his brother around. That had been ninety years ago. Now Zindrin was taking blow after blow of dirty jagged blades, roaring his anger as he was overthrown by the number of his enemies, falling atop the heap of the ones he slew.

            Lyn forced her eyes close, but could not close her ears to the well known clang of Dowir’s axes. Swift and deadly he swung them, and the cracking of skulls could not be mistaken. He left his parents and brother behind in the Iron Hills to try his luck in the regular army of Erebor. After proving his ability and having been risen to captainship, he could not imagine his luck would come disguised as a drunken miner who threw insults to the King when Dowir was off duty, relaxing with an ale at a tavern. He could not judge if Kíli was being a better or a worse king than Thorin Oakenshield would have been, but he could not agree with the following stream of cuss words that described vividly what the miner thought about Pricess Dís’ honour, pointing out that her sons didn’t resemble each other and that Kíli’s skill in archery was too elf-like for a pure dwarf. The warrior of the Iron Hills let his fists show his opinion on what the miner said, but luckily he was not the only of Nori’s _shadows_ to pretend to be drunk at the tavern that night. It had all been planned, of course, the last step to be risen to the royal wards. The fake miner, Luzik, became Dowin’s closest friend, in years to come. Now the clang of his axes silenced with a gurgling sound as his throat was cut open from side to side. No more shouting contests with Luzik, no more tales of his youth in the Iron Hills.

            Lyn’s heart skipped a beat when she heard Badri cry his charge, knowing the bold Ironfist didn’t stand a chance against the number of his foes. But he managed to fell a sneaky goblin right before it hit Zindrin in the back, and his sword granted a generous amount of black blood to soil the earth before his knee gave way to a treacherous blow. His buckler held the worst of what was directed at him for a little while, but he could not hold on forever. Nadri, someone would have to tell his son Nadri, barely one year older than Fíli. How would anyone tell Nadri that his father fell?

 

000ooo000

 

            “I left Kim in the middle of the bushes and got closer, as much as I dared. That’s when they saw Lyn up in a tree and began to shout and to shake it to get her down. Lyn clung to the tree trunk like an elf and only let it go when they threatened to hurt Fíli. I swear I had to gather all my willpower not to burst into their middle and cut off some limbs myself, but I had to stay, they were too many, and then there was Kim…”

            The hobbit buried her face in her hands and swallowed hard.

            “Iris, you don’t have to apologize, there was nothing you could possibly have done. You brought Kim back in safety. Now tell us what happened after they found Lyn.”

            She wiped he nose in a sleeve, ignoring the handkerchief Bilbo hurriedly produced from his pocket.

            “Thank you, Gandalf. I’ll tell you.”

 

000ooo000

 

            “Look! Up there!”

            “Where?”

            “There, stupid! That one is beardless too!”

            “Heh, do elf puppies grow in trees, now?”

            “If they do, it’s time to harvest!”

            Two large goblins began to ram the tree where Lyn had perched herself, while others ransacked the remaining of the group. The dwelf held to the tree trunk as if her life depended on it, as it probably did.

            “Hey, birdie, fly down, else we’ll kick your nest down and you with it!”

            She only stared at them with eyes wide as a wild thing, and held herself tighter. A goblin with only one ear grabbed Fíli by the collar and cried to one of the large ones who were hitting the tree, one with a bone plate on his chest.

            “Look! This elf puppy here has a weapon! Can I kill it?”

            “A puppy this size with a weapon? Nah, I doubt it.”

            Fíli trembled like a leaf in the wind, his feet barely reaching the ground. One-Ear held him higher still.

            “Great Goblin said to kill anyone with weapons that are not The Bane. The Bane is fire-hair, this elf puppy is not.”

            “Show me the weapon!”

            Bone-Plate demanded from One-Ear, who showed him one of Fíli’s wooden throwing knives.

            “Right, execute.”

            Fíli began to cry and to struggle to get free, which only made One-Ear to enjoy his perversity even more. That made Lyn to break out of her self-defence mode and to jump into her brother’s.

            “No! It’s not a weapon, not a real weapon, no!”

            “So, the birdie knows how to sing, it does!”

            “It is only a wooden toy, it doesn’t cut anything!”

            One-Ear shot her a malicious glance.

            “Birdie likes this puppy, huh?”

            Bone-Plate caught the implication immediately.

            “So, puppy is a good bait to catch birdies! Come down!” He shouted up the tree. “Come down else we’ll cut this puppy into slices!”

            As to confirm Bone-Plate’s threat, One-Ear held his jagged blade close enough to Fíli’s chin to draw a thin line of blood.

            “No! I’ll go, I’ll go, don’t hurt him!”

            She realized a little too late that it had not been wise to show to those creatures how much she cared for Fíli, but she herself was only a child, and even if fond of her Uncle Balin, not yet able to mimic his ability in politics and diplomacy.

            Lyn clambered down the tree to get caught by a foul-breathing goblin, who cuffed her hands with a dirty rope. The other end of the rope was used to tie Fíli’s hands in similar way, while their captors bragged about their catch.

            “A double bait we have here!”

            “If two elf-puppies don’t attract The Fire-Hair Bane so we can have our vengeance, nothing else will.”

            “And what do we do with these others? This one is struggling so much I’d rather finish it!”

            The struggling one was Ferumbras, who was giving the goblins quite a fight, despite his tiny frame and lack of fighting skills. Not that he would know what to do if he managed to get himself free, but the memory of everything he went through thanks to a goblin arrow made him refuse to mere idea of surrender without a fight.

            “No, the more elf-puppies, the more baits we have.”

“But this bait bites as bad as a badger!”

The bat-nosed goblin who suggested to ‘finish’ Ferumbras showed a bleeding finger to illustrate what he said. Bone-Plate shook his ugly head and agreed.

“Right, execute.”

The so called badger struggled even more fiercely, but the execution order was stopped by an imperative shout.

“You two stop this right now else I’ll tell your mom!” The command was so absurd that both executioner and to-be-executed stopped at once to look at the scolder’s face. Noticing it worked, against all odds, Leri began to tremble at his own boldness. “I mean… Yo-you do-don’t want to execute this e-elf-puppy, sir, i-it would do no good…”

“What do you know about what is good for me, dwarf-scum?” All but shouted Bat-Nose. The babysitter looked side-eyed to Bone-Plate, who seemed to be their leader, or at least the one who decided on executions.

“So a high prize would be worthless if dead, sir. It would only bring you and your people ruin and disgrace.

Bone-Plate leant against the tree trunk where Lyn had been perched and bit his lower lip, curious.

“A high prize, huh? What disgrace would it bring if we finished him?”  
            Leri sought for every bit of information he had about his hobbit friend that could possibly buy him more time, having deduced ‘The Fire-Hair Bane’ could only be Iris.

“He is… he is a prince in his own land, sir, the heir of the Thain. His people would do anything to have him back safe and sound, even relinquish…” He whispered in a conspiratorial way. “…the Fire-Hair.” He looked at his fingernails as if what they were talking about were not important at all. “Of course, if you kill him, you’ll have the whole realm of the elf-puppies making war on you people, and remember, they are quite _vicious…_ ”

Ferumbras’ stomach crumbled at what looked like betrayal at first glance, but then he got it and calmed down. No one would dream to relinquish Iris to the goblins, but they didn’t have to know it. If it only gave her a chance to escape, she and Kim…

“A prince, huh? Doesn’t look very rich… nor very _vicious_ , by the way.”

“Come on, none wears his richest to go to a pic-nick!” The hobbit regained his composure and tried to dig into Leri’s lie. “And don’t judge my viciousness, or my people’s, only by looks. After all, it was my ancestor Bandobras Took who _finished_ Golfimbul the orc with a single blow of his club at the Battle of Greenfields!”

Lots of ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ came from the astounded goblins and Ferumbras could swear a couple of them took a step behind. But noticing the wrath in Bone-Plate’s face, he realized that maybe he had spoken too much about himself.

“The Clubber! He is kin to The Clubber! Kill him! Behead him! Break all his bones, thenbring him back from the dead and kill him again!”

Leri threw himself in front of the hobbit, wide eyed, trying desperately to protect him.

“No!” You can’t, you won’t, if you kill him it will bring war upon your people, hundreds of thousands of vicious elf puppies swarming into your realm and it will be _all your fault_!”

The goblin leader considered the risen finger of the dwarf being weaved at his own nose and the prospect of being held guilty for bringing an elf puppy attack on his people, and decided it was not worth the risk. When they captured The Bane there would be fun enough with all the tortures the new King had devised for her, and if he decided then that the elf puppy prince deserved some of the same, th emore fun it would be, and not his responsibility.

“Jojar, tie him up. Three baits will better than two.”

“But…” Tried to complain Jojar, the Bat-Nosed goblin.

“No _buts_ , or I’ll kick yours!”

Grumbling, Jojar and two others tied Ferumbras so that he looked more like a cocoon than like a hobbit. One-Ear turned to Bone-Plate then.

“And what about the dwarf scum? The King said nothing about dragging dwarf scum along.”

Leri swallowed dry. He had focused so much on finding reasons for Ferumbras to be spared that he did not even consider his own predicament. The leader’s malicious grin could only mean one thing.

“Right. Exe…”

            “No! You don’t want to kill him!”

            Lyn’s cry was incredibly firm and persuasive for one so young, and the offending goblin pack looked at her.

            “Why not, scum? It’s not even royalty for us to get some ransom, or is it?”

            “No, he isn’t royalty, but if you kill him, it will mix up your hideout, can’t you see?”

            A tilted head and a queer look made clear they couldn’t. She explained.

            “He is my brother’s baby-sitter, if you kill him Fíli will scream and shout all around and will attract attention, you won’t be able to flee a mile with him screaming.”

            Bone-Plate rolled his eyes to yet another interruption of his fancied executions for that day.

            “Argh, to Mordor with all this delaying! Bitz, Krod, tie the dwarf’s hands, if the elf puppies praise him so much we can get ransom at least; or maybe make him suffer along the others for The Bane to watch before we start with her. Let’s bring them to the hiding, if the stoen-heads com in great number we’ll be able to grete them more _properly_. And for now…” He grabbed Lyn by the collar, making her choke. “Pray The Bane misses you enough to want you back before long. Our supplies won’t last forever, you know…”

 

000ooo000

 

            “And that’s what I was able to hear and see before they grabbed them and headed westward, a little to the south I deem. Then I got back to Kim and Hazel and waited until I couldn’t hear them anymore, and then we came back.”

            “How long ago has the attack been?”

            “I think it was mid-afternoon, but it took me a while to find the way back, and I couldn’t carry Kim all the way, and…”

            Iris’ face was wet with tears that silently left her eyes, and Bilbo caressed her hair as if it could make things right, or at least bearable to his wife.

            “Be calm, Iris, there was nothing you could do.”

            “But they… they took them as a bait for _me_! Those wards are dead because of _me_! How am I supposed to be _calm_?”

            Gandalf rose from his chair, hands flattened on the table.

            “You may stay as nervous as you wish, Iris Goblin King’s Bane, as long as it doesn’t numb your sense and prevents you from doing what must be done. Are you able to do both?”

            She lifted her trembling chin to the grey wizard, in defiance.

            “I am. What must I do?”


	58. Need for Speed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers, I’m sorry for the late update, I’m sewing a Gandalf costume for my brother and life is a hectic, so I apologize for the short chapter, I think it is better a short one than none at all.
> 
> Stay tuned for a wild roller coaster, and remember your comments make me happy!

“No way! To stay hidden in the mountain is _not_ what I call ‘the right thing to do’!”

“Iris…”

            “No, no way! Those foul creatures kidnapped my cousins and friends and you suppose I’ll stuck myself in a hole to come out only when the danger is over? No way!”

            “Iris, flower dear, they want _your_ skin, don’t you understand?”

            “Don’t _‘flower dear_ ’ me, Aunt! I’ll go help rescue them, period!”

            Gandalf made his best ‘ _I am the Ainur here_ ’ face to deal with the hobbit.

            “iris, both you and Bilbo shall not pass from the front Gate!” Now he had two, instead of one, angry hobbit facing him with a matching ‘ _make me_ ’ facial expression. Shrinking back to his nice old pilgrim shape, the wizard argued. “If the goblin kingdom gets you, they’ll become bolder and fancy revenge on other persons, peoples and kingdoms they may fantasize to have a claim on. We cannot allow this to happen, not when the Free Peoples must unite against a darker menace.” Iris let her shoulders down, half agreeing with his logic but unwilling to let her fighting spirit to go. “And you, Bilbo, are the bearer of a token that can mean either the final destruction of our Enemy of old or the end of all hope of freedom and life. You and what you bear are too precious to be risked in the battle field.”

            Bilbo fingered his pocket lid while pursing his lips.

            “I cannot let them out there without my help. I simply cannot.”

            Ellen let go a hand from a sleepy Kim’s hair and reached for him.

            “Thank you, Bilbo. A friend like you is worth all the gold under the Mountain.” Then he felt a steel grip on his shoulder and her harder still gaze in his eyes. “But if you put yourself or my niece in danger, I’ll lock you in the dungeons. Both of you.”

            “Aunty!”

            “Gandalf is a long term strategist. Albeit my heart claims for every available hand to help in the search of my kids, my head must agree with him. You stay.”

            Iris looked down at her hands, wishing there would be some way to make things different.

            “I… I feel so frustrated and useless!”

            “I know how it feels.” Stated Wolfram to his defeated daughter. “I felt quite the same when I was knocked out so you three could go the Battle fo Five Armies without me.”

            “Humpf.”

            “Talk enough, what do we od now?” Ellen was kind of waking up from the nightmare mode to a more pragmatic one. “Can your wizardry do something in this case, Mister Grey? What do you counsel us to do?”

            Gandalf nodded at her implicit handling down of leadership, and didn’t let her regret it.

            “Now that we have defined what must be left inside the Mountain, let us define what to do in the outside.” He walked to the neighbourhoods map on the wall and traced it with chalk. “Supposing the kidnapping occurred around this location and that they have about four hours advantage on us, we must cover up this perimeter.”

            “Wow, that much?”

            “Goblins run fast and we must consider the worst case scenario.”

            “Thank you, Ellen. Radagast can make the south range while I make the north. Wolfram goes to the overlook and scans from above.”

            “Scan for what? Won’t there be trees to preclude the view?”

            The grey robbed wizard rolled his eyes.

            “I’ll explain as we go. Ellen, no doubt you’ll wish to lead yourself a small patrol?”

            “I’ll go ready myself and call Bofur and Ori. Bombur is available too, and I’ll chose some of the Silent Army fellows. This is guerrilla war, if we put our regular army in the fray you can say goodbye to all secrecy.”

            “Good. The remaining of the Company are all in Dale with Kíli at the meeting on the orc raid, I suppose.”

            Ellen looked sideways, sheepishly avoiding any eye contact.

            “Erm, actually, Óin is in the Healing House and Balin holds a meeting with Dori on the next schooling season…”

            “Won’t you call them?”

Asked Iris, confused. Ellen lowered her eyes to her sleeping daughter in her lap.

“They will never admit it, but Óin and Balin are not dwarflings anymore and each winter is getting harder on them.”

“And Dori…?”

“If I call Dori in the presence of Balin and don’t call him too, my brother won’t look me in the face for the next decade. Ad if I call Dori in particular asking him for secrecy, the news will spread like fire in dry grass. I prefer to do without Dori and deal with Balin afterwards, we are in need for speed here.”

“And talking about speed, we must send notice to Kíli and the others in Dale, as soon as possible.”

“Can’t we send a raven?”

Suggested Wolfram, still amazed by the intelligence of those birds. But seemingly this was not his day of good suggestions.

“I would love to, but they are our allies, not our servants. If one of them were around I could ask the favour, but they haven’t shown beak or feather since the wedding party. Rärc is probably still digesting eye globes and I had the impression to see Crîc and Tärk carrying a bag of cookies when they flew home. Anyway, they are not night flyers, and it is getting dark outside already.”

“Can someone ride there? It is not so far, I’ve been told.”

Several eyes turned to Gwendolin, who had been momentarily forgotten in a corner.

“Yes! Yes, you can!” The blonde’s eyes widened like saucers at the elf’s sudden burst of energy, handling Kim to Wolfram and getting a piece of parchment from a briefcase, on which now she wrote angular runes with the rollerball pen. Then she dropped a bit of wax from a candle and pressed one of her rings on it while still half liquid. “Take this note to the stables, they’ll provide you the swiftest horse available; you’d better run home and dress properly to ride before you go, else they’ll saddle it with a sidesaddle if you are in skirts, and it definitely is not the best thing to use when you want to ride fast.” Ellen took off a brooch with the sigil of Durin and placed it in Gwendolin’s hand. “There is only one road from the Front Gate to Dale; any cross road will be smaller and obviously leading elsewhere. Present this brooch to anyone in Dale and ask directions to the King’s Halls, Kíli will be there in a meeting but you _must_ interrupt it, understood?”

The young woman looked more confused by the minute.

“Yes, but why…”

“You heard the whole story, to send you spares us the time to tell it over again to any messenger I could send. Now go!”

 


	59. Preparing a Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening too fast for me to write them down properly, I simply can't have my eyes on everyone at the same time! So here goes another short chapter, and wished for a nice weekend.
> 
> If you would review and tell what you're thinking about the whole thing, I'd be very happy!

            “Faster!”

            The order was punctuated by a whip on Fíli’s legs, making him stumble and fall, and actually worsening the situation. Lyn helped him up with her tied hands and complained.

            “He cannot run faster, he is a child!”

            “Shut up or you’ll get your due!”

            Lyn bit her lower lip to force herself to obey, but her volition was to say who would get his due when her parents and uncles got to know what happened. They were running for hours, but she felt like having ran for days. Didn’t those creatures ever tire?”

            They won a slope and the dwelf tried to look around and locate herself, but a shove on her shoulder made her to hit a tree face first. Strangling a cry not to give her captors the pleasure of hearing her pain, she stumbled on, trying to forget she was the owner of that body that ached so much.

            They cannot go on this way, do you want to kill your baits?”

            Leri’s voice was a blessing, but Lyn didn’t know if it would help or worsen their situation.

            “Of course I want, if I only had my way!”

 

000ooo000

 

            “Our celebration of Yule includes food, bonfires and circular dances. Of course, the main part is the food, but…”

            Ori took notes as Saradoc described vividly one more hobbit holyday, and Bofur pouredmore ale in Dudo’s mug. Half of it was spilled when Bofur’s office door was slammed open.

            “Hi, Ellen! Do you fancy a mug of ale too? It’s a special wheat one, with honey and…”

            “Bofur, I’m not here for ale, what I need is you!”

            The funny hatted dwarf almost let the ale overflow from the mug he was serving, staring at the distressed elf.

            “I hope Kíli doesn’t hear this!”

            “Ouch, Bofur!” Ellen facepalmed. “Here.” She put Kim in his arms and commanded. “The picknick turned into a disaster, the wards are dead and only Iris and Kim escaped being kidnapped by the goblins.”

            “And _Hazy_ too, Mama…” Complained Kim from Bofur’s arms. The large rabbit chose that moment to hop on the desk where Ori was writing, as to prove Kim’s statement.

            “And Hazel too. Do you think Zirc could take care of these two while I’m away? I don’t want to disturb Dís with the news.”

            “Sure, Rori and my nephews are already there, Ras went to help with the baby Dahl so she can rest a bit. You know there are never too much children for Zirc.”

            A heavy weight seemed to be uplifted from Ellen’s chest.

            “Thank you. Then you take Kim to your house and ready yourself while I go get Bombur. Ori, I’ll wait for you at the west guard-room in fifty minutes with as many Silent Warriors as you can muster.”

            “Hey, what happened to Ferumbras? It is our cousin out there!”

            The whole hobbit bunch started to talk at once, asking questions, offering help, and making fuss in general.

            “Shazara!”

            Even not understanding the word in Khuzdul, its meaning was quite easy to grasp and the hobbits shut up.

            “No time for explanations. Iris and Bilbo should be in their chambers, you can go and ask them. Now I must go.”

            “Ellen…”

            Turning back to the group, the elf stared at the scribe.

            “Yes, Ori?”

            Why don’t we mirror the Silent Army to come? It would be the fastest way.”

            “Yes, and also a way of telling everyone in the Mountain that there is something going on.”

            “And why is it wrong?” It was Bofur to ask. Ellen took a deep breath before answering.

            “The goblins want to attract us into open battle so they can extort us Iris for the prisoners. That’s what we _cannot_ do. They expect many, berserk, and obvious; we must be few, precise, and silent. You know our warriors, Ori, and with all their undeniable valour, to let them act is to give the goblins what they want.”

            “You could explain to them…”

            “Ori, no time! Bye!”

            She left the office with Bofur carrying Kim at her heels for part of their path. Kim was currently on his back and took the chance to clear one more doubt with her mom.

            “Mama, will you go find _Lee_ and _Fee_ and teach the _gob’ins_ a lesson?”

            Gritting her teeth, she answered in a hurry before turning a corner in a different direction than where Bofur would go.

            “You can bet your Dada’s beard, dear.” And then, muttering under her breath when she was out of earshot from her youngster. “I will skin them alive and use their hides to make a bag for storing charcoal.”

 

oo00oo

 

            “Bilbo, Gandalf stressed very strongly that the Ring should _not_ be used. It is perilous, dangerous, it had an evil tinge in it. You _should_ not use it!”

            The hobbit squared his shoulders and tightened his belt, from where Sting dangled in its scabbard.

            “You are right, I _should_ not. But out there, there is a relative of mine who should not even be buried into snow, what to say to be pierced by a poisoned arrow and atop of it to be kidnapped by a band of goblins; out there are a couple of children, Iris, _your_ niece and nephew, kidnaped, scared, maybe facing torture or even death. And _that_ is evil. Whatever I do to help to rescue them is _not_.”

            “Ok…” She answered, slowly, measuring his figure from head to toe. Then she took a couple of steady steps in his direction and grabbed his hair, placing a fierce kiss on his surprised lips. “But don’t think I’ll let you roam around with no one to fight by your side.”

            Iris turned her back to him and rummaged her vanity.

            “Oh, no, you don’t think I’ll let you out there where those creatures want to take you to torture, kill and goodness knows what more! No, no, no, no, no, you stay right here!”

            She turned back to him, tying her hair in a ponytail with a leather strap.

            “Make me!” She dared him. “My father is out there trying to cut off the goblins’ escape, my aunt is gathering the Company members to start the hunt, my Little Brother no doubt will be on their tracks as soon as he knows what happened, and you want _me_ to stay home like a… frightened bunny? Spare me!” As if to reinforce her statement, she drew her twin swords and made them flash with a swift movement before placing them back into the scabbards. “I’ll go rescue them the same as you!”

            Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose, unhappy but unable to argue.

            “They don’t even want _me_ in the search party.”

            “And you ain’t willing to obey their commands, just like I am. What does it mean, then?”

            The gentle touch of her fingers to his face was all it took for him to melt in a smile that reached his eyes.

            “That we are together. Side by side for the rest of your days.”

            Their kiss would have taken longer to break if it weren’t for the urgent knocking on the door, followed by a wave of hobbits washing into their chambers with a loud and uninterrupted chatter. Unable to discern between the seven sources of questioning, Bilbo stepped on a chair and uplifted a hand as if to begin a speech. To that they were used, and silenced in expectation.

            “First: yes, Ferumbras was kidnapped along with two of Kíli’s children and their babysitter. Second: we have been ordered to stay here and to wait.”

            Saradoc, who was closer to him, pocked the scabbard dangling from Bilbo’s belt.

            “Third, you’re giving a damn to what you have been ordered.”

            “Fourth, your wife is worthy to be called a member of the family.”

            Beryl’s eyes shone approval to Iris’ outdoors outfit and double scabbard. Dudo closed the door behind him after screening the corridor for any eavesdropper before turning back with a conspiratorial whisper.

            “And fifth, how do we help you?”

 

 


	60. Ploys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, I’m so glad you’re still bearing with me!  
> Well, I thought this would be a shorty one, but when I noticed it, it had become more a regular chapter than a short one, hurray!  
> I’d like to tell you I found the ‘soundtracks’ for two previous chapters, actually one for the fic to what this one is a sequel, and a chapter of this one. So you don’t have to go back to see it, here it goes:  
> Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Hearth,  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/956865/chapters/2112865  
> And I'd give up forever to touch you  
> 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
> You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
> And I don't want to go home right now  
> And all I can taste is this moment  
> And all I can breathe is your life  
> And sooner or later it's over  
> I just don't want to miss you tonight  
> (Goo Goo Dolls – Iris)
> 
> Send me an Owl, Onomatopoeias  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1061270/chapters/2635018  
> Heart beats fast  
> Colors and promises  
> How to be brave  
> How can I love when I'm afraid to fall  
> But watching you stand alone  
> All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow  
> One step closer  
> I have died every day waiting for you  
> Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you  
> For a thousand years  
> I'll love you for a thousand more  
> Time stands still  
> Beauty in all she is  
> I will be brave  
> I will not let anything take away  
> What's standing in front of me  
> Every breath  
> Every hour has come to this  
> One step closer  
> I have died every day waiting for you  
> Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you  
> For a thousand years  
> I'll love you for a thousand more  
> And all along I believed I would find you  
> Time has brought your heart to me  
> I have loved you for a thousand years  
> I'll love you for a thousand more  
> One step closer  
> One step closer
> 
> (Christina Perri – A Thousand Years)
> 
> As always, I thank you very much for reading this and spending a minute to review. You are the best!

            “Check!”

            “Aye.”

            Knee moves a rook, at the same tine protecting his king and forcing Lily’s queen to move back.

            “Silly!”

            He lifted his eyes from the board and smiled a negative to her.

            “This is not a name for a chess move.”

            “No, this is a name for a chess player!”

            Hiding his amusement, Knee made another move in answer to Lily’s ‘ _silly_ ’ move.

            “Checkmate.”

            “Ah, no, not again!”

            “A good apprentice tend to surpassthe master.”

            “Do I hear a self-praise of a so called ‘ _good apprentice_ ’?”

            “No, this is the praise of whom I call my master.”

            Knee blushed at his own boldness when he noticed the words that just left his mouth without his consent. But his cousin didn’t seem to grasp his slip of tongue and rambled on.

            “I’m no chess master, I just know how to move the pieces, and you mastered it by yourself.”

Considering she didn’t get angry at his boldness, Knee decided to dare on and leant over the chess board to look directly into her eyes.

            “There are more things than chess that I would love to call you my master.”

            “Thorin!”

            Now he knew he had trespassed some dangerous border, but also that he always could escape by the humorous way. If it worked for his father, it should work for him too. And, as his mother used to say, if you can’t convince them, confuse them.

            “Hairdressing, for instance!” He said with his best puppy eyes. “Amad told us you are a great hair dresser, it was even mentioned in your Compromise!”

            Lily looked at him, obviously not convinced.

            “Hairdressing, Thorin? You, crown prince of Erebor, are trying to convince me that you are really interested in learning hairdressing? Ouch, spare me!”

            “But I _must_ learn how to!” Answered Knee with conviction. As if to illustrate what he was saying, his hand reached for her locks across the chessboard. “How will I plait a perfect braid like yours one day? How will I state my Compromise to the future queen of Erebor, unless you show me how?”

            His eyes shone so dangerously that for a moment Lily forgot he was just an adolescent and dived into those liquid sapphire pools.

            “Thorin…”

            The bathroom door opened with a small and Frérin stepped out of it still drying his hair.

            “Hey, Itchy, your turn, enjoy that the bathroom is warm.”

            Lily turned to him, startled, thrown out of the trance Knee’s eyes had sent her.

            “No, I’ll go first, Scratchy, the scabs on my scalp are getting me insane.”

            With that Lily jumped from the small table they used to play chess and grabbed a set of comfortable clothes before running to the bathroom. Knee sat there, motionless, staring at the chess board in front of him, and Frérin begun to set the pieces in place for another game.

            “What’s wrong with Tickly? Did you win another game?”

            “Ah, aye, that was it, I guess.”

            “Hm.” Frérin finished setting the board and looks up at his brother. “She disturbs you.”

            “What?”

            “I may be younger than you but I’m not blind, _nadad_ (1). I _see_ you’re infatuated with our cousin.”

            Knee stood up and begun to walk nervously around the room.

            “You are seeing things, Fré. There is not a bit of logic in considering me infatuated with someone who’s been already Compromised to someone else, further more when that someone else was our Granduncle.”

            “And since when has infatuation anything to do with logic?”

            A quick duck and Frérin dodged a whacking at the back of his head, but Knee compensated it with an elbow to his brother’s shoulder, soft enough not to really hurt but hard enough to be felt.

            “Crown princes don’t get infatuated. Duty comes first.”

            The blue-eyed copy-cat of Kíli looked at this older brother with feigned pity.

            “I’m sorry, _nadad_. Sometimes I forget your status can be a burden.”

            “It could be a burden _if_ I were infatuated with someone, but I am _not_ , so it is all right.” Knee stated almost too hastily. “But if _you_ are infatuated with someone, just go ahead, you have freedom to choose.”

            Frérin leant back in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching his feet on the chessboard table, dropping some pieces down.

            “That will never happen, Knee. I’ll be your right hand, and who would be insane enough to marry the king’s right hand?”

            Thankful for the change of subject, the crown prince picked up the pieces and put them back on the chessboard, after shoving his brother’s feet off it.

            “Anyone willing to live in wealth and comfort, and you can be sure there will be dozens of damsels chasing you around the Mountain when the time comes.”

            “Hah! They’ll be chasing _you_ , most probably.”

            “I’ll probably be married to someone chosen out of political interest long before I can be chased by anyone.”

            “Nah, I doubt it. Ma and Da married out of love, they would not compel you to marry out of duty.”

            “But when they Compromised Da was not crown prince, and even Uncle Fíli would not be the first in line of succession after Granducle married cousin Lily and had his own sons.”

            “This does not change the fact that they _did_ marry in love; so, why can’t you?”

            “And why can’t _you_ , by the way?” Knee retorted. “You’re second son just like Da.”

            “I _told you_ already. I’ll be your right hand, I’ll be responsible for security, I’ll always be out in patrols and escorting caravans and how can a woman stand not to know if her husband will come back alive? I would not have my mind in the right place if I had to think my wife was home worrying about me.”

            “Hah! Footloose Frérin worrying about worrying ladies!”

            “It is true, Knee! I don’t want to have a woman worrying about me the way I see Ma worrying about Da.”

            For the first time Knee considered the sense of his brother’s opinion, and spent some minutes musing on it.

            “But Fré, if everyone thought this way, nobody would marry and nobody would have children and our people would dwindle and extinguish.”

            “If nobody thought this way we’d have a lot of fight because of women, because we don’t have dwarrowdams enough for every dwarf.”

            Knee nodded with his head half tilted, as he used to do when recognizing someone’s reason..

            “To this, I must agree. Now, come on, I let you play with the whites.”

            “Chess again? Urgh!”

            “You should play it more, Fré, you would grasp better our strategy classes.”

            “Nah, nonsense. It considers too few things to be useful in real strategics.”

            “It is not ‘ _things_ ’, it is ‘ _variables_ ’. And if you are unable to abstract the model, the problem is yours!”

            “And the winner of the ‘ _grumpy dwarf of the year’_ prize goes to…”

            Frérin’s antics were interrupted by a loud wail in the general direction of the entrance of the Healing House, followed by the trampling of healers and assistants. Puzzled, the brothers made to the door to kike the corridor, even if their quarantine meant they should not show their noses out of their rooms. Their curiosity was awarded with the quick and silent steps of Iris running straight to them and shutting the door behind them with a finger on her lips.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “Shhh!” Iris hushed her cousins. “Where is Lily? I need her urgently!”

            “She is taking a bath; what’s going on?”

            “Goblins killed the wards and kidnapped Lyn, Fíli, Ferumbras end Leri, I escaped with Kim and Hazel. Your mom is going after them with some others and the wizards left already. Now I must get Lily to help me!”

            “Wait, and Adad?”

            “Gwendolin went to Dale to warn him and the others, now must I explain to you the meaning of haste?”

            Frérin started to knock the door of the bathroom with urgency, but Knee was not satisfied yet.

            “Why are you whispering? What is that hurly-burly out there?”

            Iris rolled her eyes, knowing her cousin was being only as curious as she herself would be in the same situation.

            “They told me and Bilbo to stay hidden in the mountain, but we will not; we…” The hobbit lass interrupted her explanation when a confused Lily stepped out of the bathroom braiding her side-beard. “Ah, there you are! Lily, what do you need from Aunty’s house to go goblin hunting?”

            “What the f… Goblin hunting? I don’t want to see those filthy creatures _ever_ again in my life!”

            “Nor me, but they kidnapped the kids and we are going after them before they are too far.”

            “What kids? Who ‘ _we_ ’ are going?”  
            “Fíli, Lyn, their babysitter and Ferum were kidnapped; me, Bilbo and Paladin, and now you, are going after them without Aunt’s consent, if you feel well enough.”

            Lily’s answer was to run to the dresser and get a pair of socks.

“Of course I am!” She turned to Frérin while sitting on the bed and donning the socks. “Scratchy, get me my boots, please? I left them…”

“Scattered somewhere, I know…”

The young dwelf obeyed his older cousin with a resigned look in his face, but Knee was not satisfied.

“And what is that racket out there?”  
            “Distraction.” Clarified Iris while Lily laced her boots. “Drogo and Primula are providing some trouble for the healers so I can get Lily out of here, they wouldn’t allow it otherwise. If they ask about her, will you find an excuse, please?”

“Hey, but…”

“Bye!”

With that Iris left the room dragging Lily with her, leaving behind a pair of stunned dwelves looking at each other.

“Now what…?” Frérin asked his brother with both hands facing up and a bewildered look in his face.

Knee threw Frérin’s boots in his direction and begun to done his own.

“To take advantage of the distraction. Who do those goblins think they are?”

 

000ooo000

 

            It was already dark when the goblins decided to halt, much to their captives’ relief. Fíli had been carried for the last few miles by one of the larger goblins, so as not to hinder their pace, but the stench of the rags used as an excuse of clothes was making him queasy. Lyn’s face was swelling from where it hit the tree, but she was keeping her mouth shut and her stubbornness sharp, even if her breath was laboured.

Throwing Fíli down from his shoulder as if he were a potatoes sack, the large goblin called Krod asked to Bone-Plate, the leader.

“Leave some hints here, Burzg?”

“There is trampling enough for them to track us, no need for more. Prepare the first trap in the ridge we just made through.”

 _So that’s it_ , thought Ferumbras. _They’ll attract the dwarves to rescue us and get them into traps. That’s how the goblins plan to overcome Kíli’s army numbers._

The sound of a sigh made him to look at Leri, whose troubled brown eyes told him the babysitter understood the same thing. The Leri looked down at his tied hands and moved his fingers, but Ferumbras could not make out what he intended with it. On the other hand, Lyn moved her head just slightly, as if to show she noticed the finger movements. Leri turned his face to her an both started a series of finger movements that Ferumbras could only guess were the secret silent language of the dwarves that he heard about, Iglishmêk, and considered that even if he knew the language, in his current state he would be as mute with his tied up hands as he was with his mouth, as he tried to keep himself for the goblins not to whip him again.

Fíli was gently stirred by Lyn’s elbow and opened his eyes just a slit, as if expecting to be hit and at the same time protecting himself from it. Lyn and Leri interacted with him with a set of hand gestures that he frowned to understand, as the little one was not used to that language being used with tied up hands, but soon his clear eyes showed recognition and he begun to whimper annoyingly.

Leri waited with his head down, hands quiet, whilst Lyn squirmed herself so her legs where turned more to the tree she was close to than to the path they were treading. Soon Jojar, the bat-nosed goblin who held watch over them, was there to inquire what was going on.

“I’m thirsty.”

The puppy eyes he inherited from his father had no effect on the goblin, who just laughed.

“Drink your own spit, brat.”

“ _Please_ …”

“Enough to be carried, now want supplies too?” Jojar kicked the little dwelf in the ribs. “Shut up before you _become_ a supply yourself, stone-head!”

Leri made his best to squirm himself up against a tree.

“Please, he is just a little nuisance! A gulp of water won’t lessen your supplies, and will spare you a lot of whimpering and complaining for a long while.”

As if to illustrate Leri’s words, Fíli started to whimper louder, rolling on the ground closer to his babysitter, sending pleading eyes to the goblin.

“Please, mister, just a bit of water, I’ll shut up after…”

Noticing Jojar’s ado, Burzg came closer to the small group of prisoners.

“What’s the matter?”

“The matter, sir, is that this little laddie here needs, really _needs_ , a bit of water, and your subject here doesn’t understand dwarves are not made of so a tough matter as the powerful goblins, I’ll not even mention food, but just a bit of water for a _child_ , by the Powers…”

A hard smack of Burzg’s fist on Leri’s face made him to shut up.

“The only Power is Morgoth Bauglir and Sauron is his Lieutenant General!”

“The child needs water!”

The brown eyes of the babysitter, brimmed with tears, made the goblin leader laugh.

“You have water to spare; give it to him.”

Leri knew it was just another way for the goblin to have fun with them, or what his twisted mind understood as fun, but even so reached his tied hands to Fíli and brought the lad to him, sitting down and making the boy to rest his head on his chest.

“Hush, Fíli, hush… it will be all right…” Fíli swallowed a sob and turned his gaze to the babysitter, twisting his tied up hands close to his chin. “Yes, all right, all right…”

What communication happened there Ferumbras was not able to understand, but he noticed Fíli was calmer now, even not having got water. The goblin leader went back to whatever he was doing before, and Jojar kept his ugly face turned to the woods. Lyn brought her feet back to the path, further from the trees than before, and the hobbit noticed the heels of her boots heavy with dirt and a satisfied, though furtive, smile in the corner of her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Nadad = brother


	61. 61 - Little Ruses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, here goes one more little step into freeing Kíli’s kids from the awful goblins!  
> I’m really sorry for keeping updates bi-weekly, but I have no other way before I finish the costumes for upcoming ComicConExperience. The good news is that Gandalf’s outfit for my brother is ready, long tunic, belt and hat! If you want, you can see it in my Facebook, here goes the link (erase spaces to get there, as I don't know if links that are out of this domain are allowed):  
> facebook.com / dagny.fischerbocca / media_set?set=a.789108564486339.1073741827.100001616075093&type=1  
> Constructive criticism on the costume is welcome, I’m not a professional dresser or fashion designer, I just know how to use a sewing machine and I use it to materialize ideas, not always as perfect as I wished for.  
> As always, I’d love to hear your reviews, they make me know to write for you is worth any sacrifice!

            “I know this patch of the forest, we’ve been here before.”

            “Yes, but here we’ll diverge. I’m more able to work close to the ground, and in direct contact with the enemy. You should take some self-defence classes, at least, when you’re back to your world; it is not everything that can be dealt with wizardry.”

            Wolfram thought that it was still hard for him to accept the concept of magic, but knew that it was useless to argue with his master.

            “Ok, what do I do now, Radagast?”

            The brown wizard pointed with his staff to a hill that towered to their left.

            “That’s the lookout we mentioned before. From there you’ll be able to scan most of the area where the goblins and their prisoners might be. When you find something, report.”

            The green wizard looked confused.

            “How? I’ll not even know where you are!” And even if I knew, it would take os long to reach you that…”

            “Didn’t you learn anything up to now?” Wolfram ducked quickly to avoid Radagast’s staff from hitting his head. “Besides don’t getting hit by me, I mean?”

            “But _how_ am I to report to you? Don’t you say there is a walkie-talkie embedded in the staffs?”

            Radagast rolled his eyes and refrained from trying to hit his apprentice again.

            “Yavanna help me, next time she sends me a scientist I’ll put the offices at disposal!” Pinching the bridge of his (rather large) nose and taking in some slow breaths, the brown wizard calmed down and looked at Wolfram with kind eyes. “Now tell me, where is Gandalf?”

            “Where…?”

            “Yes, _where_ is Gandalf?” He asked again, speaking slowly as if talking to some misbehaved child who needed to be coaxed to tell the truth. Wolfram’s look was puzzled and he felt helpless, wondering what was expected from him that he just couldn’t grasp. “How did you find Dahl when she needed Iris?”

            “Oh…”

            A kind of aplomb downed on him as he understood, or thought he understood what that meant. Closing his eyes and grabbing his staff harder, he focused on the electricalfrequency of Gandalf’s central nervous system (he refused to call it _aura_ ) and let the radius of his perception spread bit by bit, until he felt it. A strong and purposeful vibration, like a sound beyond the reach of human hearing, like the deep drum of waves in open sea. The dot of energy that was Gandalf stopped short for a moment, before perceiving it was just a test. Flashing once as if to acknowledge Wolfram’s attention, the energy spot turned and continued his way.

            Wolfram opened his eyes and the flicker of the waning green light at the top of his staff caught his attention before fading. The light, not the wizard.

            “I can find him. I suppose I can find you too, if need be. But how will I report? It is not as if there were any kind of words, and…”

            Radagast tapped his shoulder kindly, a proud shine in his eyes.

            “You will know how.”

            With that the brown wizard turned away and stepped on his wooden sledge, quickly dragged away by his enormous rabbit friends. Wolfram looked in the direction his master left and shook his head before starting to climb, mumbling to himself.

            “Sometimes I hate being an autodidact…”

 

000ooo000

 

            Lyn tried to reduce the pain in her puffed eye as a nuisance to be ignored, but it wasn’t.

            Ferumbras felt so miserable that even sharing a tea with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins sounded a good prospect, the Valar forbid.

            Leri worried so much on the dwelflings under his care that the blood that dripped from his torn lips into his beard went ignored and dried there.

            Fíli was thrown on Jojar’s back to be carried and retched.

 

000ooo000

 

            “See who I brought to play with all of you…”

            Soon a small herd of dwarflings surrounded Bofur with joyful shouts of “Adad!” and “Uncle!”, plus the shy bow of Rori accompanied by an inaudible mumble. Leaving Kim to play with the youngsters and Hazel to rest on a couch, the dwarf with the funny hat hurried to his own chambers.

            “Bofur? Are you home already? How was it with the halflings?”

            “Yes, no, fine…”

            Zirc stepped in with a worried look in her face.

            “What’s on? You’re never so…concise.” Noticing her husband was donnin his armor, she frowned. “Problems?”

            “Yes. Big. Sorry, I must haste.”

            She let go the braid in her head that she was twirling in her fingers and reached him to help with the leather straps that secured his gorget in place.

            “I won’t wait for you for supper, I suppose.”

            “No.” Bofur placed a kiss on his wife’s lips and looked in her eyes with devotion. “But I’ll do my best to break my fast with you.”

            “Don’t leave me in the dark, what happened?”

            Knowing it was useless to keep things hidden from Zirc and from the children, as probably Kim had already blabbed everything to them, Bofur chose to burst it all out.

            “Just don’t spread it out, but Lyn and Fíli were taken by goblins and we are going after them.”

            “Goblins!” The fear was obvious in her voice, but she would try to conceal it from the children. “What do I tell the younglings?”

            “That no one steals the treasure of a dwarf and escapes unscathed.”

 

000ooo000

 

            A quick nod to the wards as she entered her home told them the queen was either distressed, in a hurry, or both. Ellen came not from the direction of the boardroom where she should have been, and she was alone, and both things were not what they expected, rather the company of her otherworldly brother. They were so used to her that sometimes it was forgotten that she was not born in Middle-earth, and her stubbornness was sometimes enough to forget that she was not a dwarf. So, they exchanged glances and waited for some shouting to clarify what was going on.

            The shouting never came, though.

            “You’re late for supper, _nathith_ (1).” Dís stated to her daughter-in-law that stormed through the living room in the direction of her own chambers, ignoring the senior dwarrowdam. “By the way, so are the younglings and our guests. Are they with the halflings?”

Ellen mumbled something over her shoulder that sounded like ‘ _probably_ ’ and didn’t satisfy Dís curiosity. Leaving her current embroidery on the armchair beside the door that led to the kitchen (the best lightened spot in the hall for one who wanted to work with threads and needles, her mother used to say) and all but ran after the elf.

“It is not that Kíli is not here that you’re allowed to skip meals, young lady.”

            “M’not hungry, Amad.” Sensing she would not buy her statement, Ellen completed. “I ate an apple.”

            “Humpf.”

            Leaning against the door frame, Dís watched the elf getting rid of her skirt and donnin riding pants and trekking boots before throwing a plated mail hauberk over her head, struggling then to disentangle her long black hair from the metal rings. Giving up, she threw her hands in the air and opened a drawer strategically placed under her bed.

            “What, in Durin’s name, are you intending to do?” Asked the dwarrowdam when she noticed what the elf was taking. “I heard no alarm and nothing flashed in the mirrors, where are you going armed like that?”

            Avoiding Dís’ eyes, Ellen tried to lie the best she could.

            “Just a bit annoyed, going to hunt to wear the stress out.”

            “Humpf.” Snorted Dís, making clear Ellen’s ability to lie was one of her worst features for someone who knew her well enough. “You, to hunt? You’d buy your meat from a butcher your whole life, if allowed.” She observed the elf struggling to fix the scabbards where they would not hinder her movements, but the misplaced hair was getting in her nerves. “Here, let me do it for you.”

            With precise and quick hands Dís disentangled Ellen’s hair and plaited it in a serviceable braid that would stay out of the way for as long as needed. Ellen finished with the scabbards in the meanwhile, checked the spare dagger in her thigh and completed with a light weighed coif that protected most of her head and neck. The stitches on her forehead should have been pulled out that evening, but she had no time to go to Óin, and now they complained about the contact with the metal of the coif, so she took it off, bind a silk scarf so the healing cut would be protected, and donned the coif again.

            “Right, what did he do this time?”

            “What?”

            Ellen was so lost in what she was doing and planning to do that she didn’t hear what Dís said at all.

            “Yes, _what_ did Kíli do this time?” The elf realized the dwarrowdam had misinterpreted her refuse in telling the truth about her _hunt_ and jumoed into wrong conclusions. “And don’t try to tell me it is nothing, because _I know_.”

            “But, Amad…”

            “I know because that Gwendolin woman came here running earlier and told me!”

            “What?” Ellen was perplexed. She had asked her guest to be discreet, mostly with Dís. “What did Gwendolin say?”

            Dís triumphant look would be funny if Ellen were not so distressed on what was going on outside the mountain.

            “That she was going to Dale to _warn_ Kíli. She refused to say what he was to be warned about, but seeing you in this state, it is _obvious_ he has done something that annoyed you and now you’re going to _hunt_ him.”

            “Oh, Amad…” Ellen sighed, trying to make up a way to keep Dís in her delusion. “I promise I won’t do anything to hurt him. But... a meeting in the middle of the road or in Dale… unexpected… well, not so unexpected, now that Gwendolin has gone spill the beans for him… it might set things right. Trust me.”

            Dís’ hand left her waist to pat Ellen’s shoulders.

            “It is all right, nathith. I know my son can be terrible at times, but he is a good laddie. Just give him a scare, it will be enough..”

            “Yes, yes, I… I believe it will be quite the scare. Now, I must go, Amad, else I’ll spoil my plans.”

            Ellen made for the corridor in long steps, and heard Dís calling after her.

            “Don’t forget to eat!”

            “I won’t!”

 

000ooo000

 

            “Master Drogo, I must insist that you leave!”

            “No, no, I won’t leave my wife, are you crazy?”

            “It is out of protocol to have someone that is not the patient present during the anamnesis!”

            “To Mordor with the protocol, my wife in not feeling well and I _will_ stand by her side all the time. Period.”

            Knee and Frérin rounded the group of arguing dwarves and hobbits, glad that half of the visiting halflings were engaged in the act of annoying Óin and his staff, troubling them enough for both Lily and Iris to get out of the healing house without being noticed and for them two to follow in their wake.

            “I’ll need my sword, the scabbard is in my bedroom inside the closet.”

            “Bilbo can get it. Anything else?”

            “A bow and a quiver would be nice, but I don’t know if we can get it.”

            “Hmm, probably Kíli has some spare at home, but I don’t want Bilbo to get trampled by Ellen in her chambers, she’s gone to take her things.”

            “So be it, if there is no other way.”

            The sisters stopped at a corner to pry for any sign of them being seen. Knee and Frérin flattened themselves to a door that arched a couple of yards before said corner, careful not to warn them of their presence. Lily seemed to consider alternatives.

            “But won’t Aunt be occupied with Kim? You said she escaped with you.”

            “Yes, but she sent Kim to Bofur’s, so she doesn’t have to tell Dís.”

            “Oh, so.”

            The women turned the corner and started to run again, and the lads wasted no time in following them.

            When finally free in the path that led to the royal dwellings, the dwelves had to supress a cry of surprise when Bilbo appeared in front of them out of thin air, or out of a certain Ring of Power, but that was not a thing known to them, as Bilbo’s part in the Retaking was always told without mentioning his disappearing acts, praising nstead his hobbitish skills as a burglar.

            “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “To save our siblings, of course!”

            “Those goblins have no right to touch a finger on Lyn, and if they’ve done anything to Fíli, I, I…”

            “Hey, calm down, you two!” Bilbo tried to hush the lads, as there was no point in drawing attention to himself either. “There are people more prepared than you taking care of this. Please, go back to the Healing House.”

            Frérin’s eyes grew with indignation at Bilbo.

            “What? Are you suggesting we have no fighting skills? I’ve been under Uncle Dwalin’s tutorship since I was a toddler!”

            “I don’t doubt it, but…”

            “It is _my_ sister and _my_ brother who are out there.” Knee’s blue eyes flashed anger at the hobbit. “If you try to stop me, I’ll make sure you are stopped too.”

            Something in the youngling’s voice made Bilbo shiver, but he didn’t quite grasp what. Sending a glance to the corner Iris and Lily has vanished moments before, he made a quick decision.

            “Your mother will impale me with her Dragonslayer sword if she finds out I didn’t keep you out of trouble.”

            “She won’t.”

            The hobbit never imagined to see such stern eyes in someone so young, but he saw. But they would not move him from his sense of self-preservation.

            “No, she won’t. Because you will stay inside the mountain and no, you’ll do nothing to stop me.”

            With a quick movement of the hand stuck in the pocket of his coat, Bilbo disappeared before their eyes, leaving Knee and Frérin open-mouthed and lost on what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – Nathith - daughter


	62. Friendship and Brotherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, I’m alive! After several weeks of sewing and four days cosplaying Tauriel at Comic Con Experience (CCXP) in Sao Paulo, Brazil, I finally managed to get my breath again and return to our story. I’m sorry for the delay, but I swear it was worth every bit of effort!  
> So, here it goes, I hope to compensate all the waiting with more chapters soon. I wanted this one to go further but my children are still waiting for the Christmas’ tree to be set, as after we came back there was a lot of things to tidy; besides, we went to watch the Batlle of Five Armies second time today (this time my 6 year old girl went along, warned that her favourite dwarf would die – she said, “Oh, ok, Mom, I’ll be sad but it’s just a movie…” but then near the end she complained that other dwarves were daying too…).  
> Reviews will be my Christmas present!

            They had been piled together in a corner like a mound of rubbish, and Ferumbras could not keep out of his mind that he was so, but _so_ utterly unlucky that it surely was all his fault. Having seen the royal wards being so stupidly killed made him feel even worse. Lyn showed bruises all over his right side where Bat-Nose had slammed her onto a tree trunk, and Leri had a dark smear of blood on his face from when they hit his mouth for speaking up his mind. Fíli just trembled, his little body shaking either from fear or from cold, it was hard to tell.

“I’m cold.”

Fíli stated to no one in particular, as if reading Ferumbras’ mind. Leri lent what little comfort he could, trying to wrap his arms around the boy even with his hands cuffed. Lyn shifted position so she would be closer too. The goblins had left them in the little cave, not much more than a hollow in the hillside, and guarded them from outside, so it was the first time since their capture that they had chance to talk without having their mouths slammed shut.

“What will we do?”

The dwelf girl asked, searching the eyes of the adults for an assurance none of them could give.

“We stick together.” Ferumbras whispered. “Keep Fíli as warm as possible, and you too, little one. Then we try to rest, we don’t know when they’ll make us run again.”

            “How is your leg?”

            The recrudescing limp didn’t pass unnoticed to the dwarf, and he worried about Ferumbras almost as if he were a child in his care. The hobbit looked away.

            “Mister Ferumbras was limping badly.”

            “Thank you, Fíli, for spilling the beans.”

            “None will help you if you don’t tell you hurt.”

            The lad’s statement was true, but didn’t help the hobbit to feel better. Leri looked at him with gulty eyes.

            “I should have known. Sorry, I should…”

            Ferumbras shook his head.

            “What would you do? None here is in position to help anyone very much. If I mentioned my pain, they would sure make me feel it even more.”

            Leri dismissed the hobbit’s angry look at the entrance of the cave and reached for the stiff leg with his cuffed hands. With deft, albeit restrained, strokes, he found the violin string tense tendons and begun to gently touch them with the tips of his fingers. It hurt, but slowly the rigidity started to melt away, the sore muscles relaxing a bit and the fiery pain was dulled to a bearable ache, and a sigh escaped Ferumbras’ lips.

            “Did I hurt you?”

            “What? No, absolutely!” He looked at the worried caramel eyes that gazed at him, and down at the cuffed hands that left his leg with the sensation that a warm spring of the Shire just touched him. “You… you make me feel better.”

            A shy smile was his reward, and both got startlet when an ugly goblin face showed through the cave mouth.

            “I’d rather have ya for supper, but boss ordered this to be given to ya.”

            A hard and somewhat moldy bread was thrown at them, and Lyn crawled to get it from where it hit the floor. Turning it over in her corded hands, she turned to the adults.

            “Doesn’t seem very bad, this fungus is one used to prepare a medicine for infections, mister Óin told me. May not taste very good, but…” Her pleading eyes were soundtracked by her grumbling stomach. “Should we eat it?”

            Ferumbras didn’t know how to answer, as in all his years there was no time of hardship in the Shire, for the Fell Winter occurred kind of four years before his birth, and being the firstborn of the Thain there was hardly a chance for him to taste the bitterness of hunger. But he remebered Bilbo’s stories about his adventure with the dwarves, and how they had no crust of bread left in their packs when they were jailed in Mirkwood’s dungeons. To connect that fact with all the care he received in that same palace was beyond his ability, and he knew he wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for the elves under Thranduil’s hand.

Dwarves, on the other hand, he knew had to strugle through thick and thin since long before he was born, and Leri had been one of the few children to be born in exile; even being considered a young lad, in dwarven standards, he was a few years older than Bilbo, and had faced hardship and hunger in his childhood, just as his king had.

The caramel eyes rested on the loaf of bread.

“They want us alive, yet. We may eat, else we’ll faint on our own feet in the next sprint, and most probably they’ll use only whips and kicks to get us up.”

The babysitter parted the bread in four equal parts, to what the hobbit protested.

“You are bigger, you need more food than me.”

“But I know how to deal with hunger, it happened before; now, the children must eat right, and you...”

“Me what?”

Leri looked embarrassed to say what he thought openly.

“You are a prince of the Shirelings, it would be a shame on Erebor if you starve while in our kingdom.”

The hobbit shook his head in disbelief.

“Leri, stop this, will you? I’m no prince, I’m just the son of the Thain, and…”

“Yes, the crown prince.”

Ferumbras would have facepalmed if his torso wasn’t tied from shoulder to hip with a nasty rope.

“And I’m not starving in the kingdom of Erebor, we have been kidnapped!”

“See? It is really a shame on my people for you to be so mistreated. Your safety should have been granted, now you’re endangered just like…”

Of all wrong times, Fíli chose just that one to pronounce himself.

“Like the spare princes?”

Lyn was fast in grabbing the side meanings of these words in Fíli’s mind.

“No, Fee, just like any of us linked to cousin Iris would be. It would be the same if it were Knee, you know, or even Adad, I suppose.”

“I don’t know…” The youngster nibbled at his hard bread, thinking. “Knee would find a way to befool the goblins, and Adad would fight hard and inspire every one close to him to fight too, and would defeat the goblins.” He stopped for a moment and looked at the roof of the cave, wondering. “Or would Adad befool them and Knee inspire people…?” He turned back to his bread. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Well, we are none of them, but…” Lyn twitched her fingers in front of her and both Fíli and Leri chuckled in silence, leaving Ferumbras in the dark. The inquiry in his eyes was answered in a very quiet whisper as Leri leant over to put some bread in the hobbit’s mouth.

“Lyn made some marks on the ground with her boots, back when I asked for water, to warn anyone who tries to rescue us that there are traps.”

“Oh… I was wondering what was that about.”

They ate in silence for a while, the babysitter putting small portions of bread into Ferumbras’s mouth, to what the hobbit was absolutely embarrassed, but given his tied hands, arms and everything that was not needed for walking, there was little he could do about, but it didn’t keep him from mentioning his discomfort.

“Don't worry, I’ve done this a zillion times in my work. I can say it is easy to feed someone so willing and that doesn’t spit, kick randomly, ditty and throw things at you – all at the same time.”

Fíli blushed in the dark.

“I was not _that_ bad...”

“Not that you remember, darling. But I’m happy the apple pap incident was with your Mother, not with me…”

“Humpf.”

The bread was not much and they finished it soon. Fíli yawned and curled himself like a ball beside his babysitter, and Lyn wrapped an arm around him, protectively, quickly falling asleep.

 

“Rest, Master Ferumbras. I’ll watch over you while I can, so those brutes don’t do anything to us unawares.”

The hobbit returned him a wry smile.

“Haven’t we gone through thick and thin enough for you to skip the _misters_ and _masters_ yet? Not enough hours in your lady’s garden with the children?”

Leri twitched his mouth in a half smile, sparing his thorn lip, and lowered his eyes.

“No hours will be enough for me to address you with less than the proper respect. I can’t imagine someone more deserving it.”

“Leri, I…” Now that was too much and even his _Thainish_ upbringing was unable to bear all that fuss. “I will tell you what I deserve. I deserve a friend who calls me by my name, with no titles, with no frills, with no reservations. I deserve a friend who calls me by my given name, or by a nickname that expresses the care and friendship that I experience in… you. Do you understand?”

“I…” The young dwarf looked abashed. “I-I can’t, I’m just a babysitter and you are…”

“I am your _friend_. Or can’t I call myself your friend? Would you begrudge me your friendship? Here, when we don't even know if we'll last 'till the morrow?”

“No! I mean, I… we will last. We will make it, Mas… Ferumbras.” The last word was almost a whisper, and the hobbit whispered back to his dwarf _friend_.

“Leri… I faced crossdressing, snowslide, goblin arrow and poisoning, and I’d had a blade through my throat not long ago _if it weren’t for you_. I won’t postpone anything that is important to me. And having you calling me by my name is… important.”

“Crossdress… no, I can’t believe it!”

Ferumbras sighed deeply by his slip of tongue. But he would not regret. Not with the amused smile he could sense in Leri’s voice.

“I’ll make a promise now. If, no, _when_ , we get out of this mess, I’ll tell you everything about my journey from the Shire to Erebor. Everything I didn’t tell you yet.”

“Ma… Ferumbras… we will get out of this. Trust me. We will get out of this and you will tell me everything.”

With those words of hope in the future, a cocooned in rope hobbit fell asleep with the cuffed hands of a dwarf drawing soothing circles in his back.

 

000ooo000

 

            Knee was baffled, and Frérin had to be reminded to close his mouth before he dribbled. The Halfling had vanished into thin air and now they had lost sight of Lily and Iris, but they had a good idea where those two were heading to. If Bilbo was with them, there would be no use to try to go home, he surely would try to prevent them from following again.

            “Time for Plan B.” Muttered Knee, keeping his voice low so not to draw attention on them by any possible passer-by.

            “And what is it?” Asked Frérin, who didn’t even know they had a Plan A.

            “We won’t have our cousins’ help to find Fíli and Lyn, so we must get it somewhere else.”

            “No one would help us to get out of the Mountain, Knee, we are not even allowed to be out of the infirmary!”

            The older brother twisted his lips in a cheeky smile and his sapphire blue eyes shone dangerously.

            “Not _no one_ , Fré. Only not any _adult one_.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Knee grabbed his brother by the hem of the sleeve and pulled him along the stone corridors.

            “I bet ten silver beads there is someone able to find them faster than any scout in the kingdom!”

            “Are you getting us into trouble again?”

            “Of course!”

            “Ah, the good sensation of walking on known ground, that’s what I say!”

 

 

 


	63. Chapter 64 - The Young Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, I’m so happy I’m back to writing in a more regular basis, even if I still can’t promise one chapter per week. It is not yet all that I wished to post, but you can taste the confusion that’ll go further and further until all those little dwelves are back home. And, come on, I just figured out that this arc will deal with close to seventy characters and I’m a bit crazy about it right now.  
> By the way, it was simply impossible not to make some quotings on BoFA, but I hope you forgive me for that.  
> My best wishes of a fantastic 2015 plenty of health, joy and everything you deem important to your life, including books and fanfics!  
> Your reviews would make my New Year’s party be just perfect!
> 
>  
> 
> What a thing to do…  
> What a thing to choose…  
> But know, in some way I’m there with you.  
> Up against the wall on a Wednesday afternoon.
> 
> Just keep following  
> The heartlines on your hand!  
> Keep it up!  
> I know you can!  
> Just keep following  
> The heartlines on your hand!  
> Cause I am.
> 
> (Heartlines, Florence and The Machine)
> 
> 000ooo000  
> Characters summary:  
> Thorin "Knee": Firstborn son of Kíli and Ellen; D.A. 26; H.A. 14  
> Frérin: Second son of Kíli; D.A. 21; H.A. 12  
> Kim: Fifth child of Kíli, his second daughter; D.A. 4; H.A. 3  
> Zifur : Son of Bofur; D.A. 10; H.A. 7  
> Difur and Dibur: Twin sons of Bombur; D.A. 14; H.A. 9  
> Rori son of Ori 13: Son of Ori; D.A. 13; H.A. 9   
> Firc : Daughter of Bofur; D.A. 16; H.A. 10  
> Zirc: Wife of Bofur and mother of Firc and Zifur

“Bad idea, ah, bad, bad idea!”   
Whined Frérin again to Knee as they walked through the Hall of the Kings, hiding behind the pillars the best they could with the things they stowed in a burlap sac they stole from the discard room of the main kitchen of the level, heading back to the level where they lived.  
“Shut up, we needed weapons, and weapons we have. Or did you offer any alternative better than this?”  
“Right, I agree with the part of needing weapons, but… Did we have to get them there? It is…it feels… wrong.”  
Knee turned back and faced his brother with stern eyes, older than his years.  
“Frérin… my brother… I swear to you… None of our ancestors would deem it wrong to do what is needed to save our siblings.” He put a hand on Kíli’s blue-eyed copycat shoulder and touched their foreheads. “If you don’t want to go, stay. It will be no shame to obey Óin’s orders, and someone must be crown prince if things go wrong.”  
If Knee had shouted at him that he just had to go along, he could resist; if he called him a coward he could say that he just had good sense; if he forced him in anyway he would know how to deal with it, how to escape his older brother’s wishes; but no. Knee had given him every reason to stay, every bit of reason to back off, for his own good and health and for the good and health of the kingdom. There would be no dishonor on him for staying, for ensuring the line of Durin would be granted one more generation in case of disaster. But no. It was not in his blood.  
“If you think, Thorin son of Kíli, that you’ll go out there to rescue Lyn and Fíli alone and take all credit for yourself, you’re sadly mistaken!”  
Both smiled, confidence in each other strong as the heartlines in their hands; they had weapons, they had each other, and now they’d go to get reinforcements.

000ooo000

The hazel colored rabbit sniffed the air and her ears went up as if listening to something others couldn’t hear. It was the most probable, as she had rabbit ears and the other beings in the house had just dwarf ears or, at the best, dwelf ears. It was the dwelf eyes that noticed the rabbit sniffling the air, as she had pledged herself as guardian and protector of the pregnant bunny. So it was that Kim didn’t need any other clue to know there was something going on, even if her friends didn’t quite pay her attention, as she was the toddler of the pack. She was used to it, though, to people not listening to her when she talked about animals.  
A silver bead rolled from under the front door and stopped at Firc’s feet, who grabbed it not noticing it was the third bead that had bene rolled there. Picking up the carven token, Bofur’s eldest turned it in her fingers.  
“Kim, did Knee give you a bead?”  
The little girl turned to the older one with Hazel in her arms and a sad look in her eyes.  
“No, Knee don’t give beads, never ever.”  
“Isn’t this one of his beads?”  
Firc handled said bead to Kim, curious. She knew Knee was not fond of giving his beads away.  
“Aye. But not give to Kim, no no.” A suspicion grew in the child’s mind. “Knee give to Firc?”  
“No. It just…” The girl looked at the closed front door. “Wait here.”  
Albeit Bofur was member of the High Council, the actual ministry of Kíli’s government, he never took on the security measures Dwalin insisted were imperative for any member of the former Company. So, they had no ward at their door as, as Bofur proudly stated, none would be interested in killing the one responsible for Erebor’s parties.  
Opening it a crack to pry outside, Firc was pulled out by the wrist and her shriek was only prevented by a hand tightly pressed against her mouth, and her kicking to get loose stopped to a whisper in her ear.  
“Shhh! We need your help!”  
The sapphire blue eyes that stared at her would cope with no less than her agreement. Signaling with a hand that she would stay quiet, she felt the pressure on her mouth go and so the iron grip on her wrist, and turned back to see a rare unsmiling Frérin looking at her as sternly as his brother.  
“What’s going on?”  
“Lyn and Fíli have been kidnapped.”  
“Kim told us, and Adad has already gone to help rescue them.” Firc eyed them suspiciously. “You didn’t come just to tell me this, did you?”  
“No. We must get Kim and Hazel.”  
“Why?” Then it struck her. “Hey, should you not be at Óin…?”  
Frérin scratched his head.  
“Well, erm… we have not even a scab anymore…”  
“It doesn’t matter. We need Kim and Hazel and, if you may lend us a scooter or two…”  
Firc was getting more baffled by the minute.  
“What for?”  
There was no more way to avoid the truth.  
“We’re going to rescue them.”

000ooo000

Óin made sure the visiting halflings would leave him in peace, after a lot of arguing and the promise that Primula would take a proper bedrest under Drogo’s watchfull eyes and Beryl’s care about medicine timings, which were more tonics and things to get the pregnant hobbit strong than anything else, as he found no clues of why did she come to his Healing House at all. Shaking his head at the absurd relatives Bilbo had – and wondering if in some way he became their relative too, as he was Kíli’s second cousin and Iris was Kíli’s Little Sister – the salt-and-pepper healer trode back to the infirmary where Kíli’s lads and Lily were under observation for their stonepox – at least she helped him to coax the youngsters to take in their medicines, even if grimacing to take in her own.  
“Now, supper, medicine and rest, you rascals…” He said as he opened the door, expecting the usual complains of why did they have to go to bed so early if they had nothing to do next morning?  
But there was silence.  
Not that silence wasn’t usual for the deaf healer.  
But it was too silent.  
Putting his hearing aid to his old and hairy ear, Óin stepped further inside the infirmary, expecting for a prank that didn’t come.  
“Knee? Frérin…? Lads?” The chessboard was set for a new game and Lily’s bath towel was thrown on her bed, as usual. The healer mumbled under his breath what could only be translated from Khuzdul as ‘Bebother and confusticate these dwelfings!’

000ooo000

“Ma? Amad?”  
Firc took some steps inside her mother’s studio, where Zirc was working on a delicate music box that played a traditional song and was to make a couple of miniature dwarflings to skate on a platinum pool, but she was having a hard time making them to skate without crashing into each other every twenty-seven turns of the whole routine. The precise adjustments she needed to make were perfect for her to keep her mind free from worrying about her husband and the youngsters in danger, and her daughter’s entrance was enough for her to lose focus and let go the tiny coil spring she had been strugling with.  
“My… shining gem… Firc…” She took in a deep breath. “I thought I told you and the kids to play in the living room? Did something happen?”  
“Ah, no, Amad, well… can we play outside a little?” She put a thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a little bit? We were planning to…”  
The chestnut haired - and bearded - dwarrowdam considered her daughter for a moment and smiled. She knew the kind of fantasizing fun her children and their friends used to have.  
“Dig a mine? Hunt an elk? Patrol the battlements?”  
Firc giggled with her mother’s amusement.  
“No! This time we want to…” She looked side to side as if searching for spies. “Reclaim a mountain from a dragon!”  
“Ah, but that can be a lot of fun, I fancy! What will the Young Company of Thorin Oakenshield do today?”  
“Erm… just escape the elves of Mirkwood and kill some orcs, I deem.”  
Zirc smiled.  
“Aye. Just be back for supper, will you?”  
“Aye, Amad! Thank you!”  
The dwarrowdam smiled to herself as her daughter left the studio and at the sound of the front door being slammed shut.

000ooo000

The frown on her forehead could be both from her concentration on the delicate and complex embroidery she was working on and from her worry about her baby. It didn’t matter that said ‘baby’ was one-hundred-five years old, her youngest one would always be her baby, wouldn’t he? Even married to an elf and fathering a bunch of dwelflings – all of them her babies, too, of course. But she knew her reckless son could be a bit… too reckless… sometimes, and that that used to put her daughter-in-law to her edge. What he’d done this time she could not fathom, but it was not the first time Ellen had rushed out of the mountain with a bastard sword in her hands ready to teack Kíli a lesson, and none of those times had been without a reason.  
Some grumblings at the front door and Óin passed through the wards with no trouble, as expected, rushing at her with a haggard look.  
“Are they here? Did they come home?”  
Having two people in her mind that were absolutely not the same ones Óin was talking about, the misunderstanding was easy.  
“No, he should come home only late tonight and she just got out. Why?”  
Óin facepalmed.  
“No, he should stay in the infirmary for three days more, both boys! And no different for her!”  
“What? Óin, you’re not making any sense!”  
“Dís, they should stay under observation, even if they have no more evident symptoms; any flake of dry skin can spread the disease around and infect the whole mountain!”  
Only then it struck her what the healer was talking about.  
“Óin? You’re not talking about Kíli and Ellen, are you?”  
“What? Of course not, they have no stonepox nor are they under my care, as long as I know of; even if she should have gone to the healing house to get some stitches off, but one day delay won’t do any harm.”  
“And who, in holly Mahal’s name, are you talking about?” Dís prayed inwardly that Óin wasn’t meaning what she feared. “Who should be under your care…” The fire in her eyes reached her voice and now the wards had some shouting to listen to. “Where are my grandchildren, by Durin’s beard?”  
“That’s what I’m trying to determine!”   
A very long unprincess-like string of curses in Khuzdul was answered in a similar way and the wards at the door were almost leaving their post to prevent a kin-slaying when they admitted a truce and sat on a couch looking into the fire and trying to figure out what to do next.  
“So, you lost Lily too, you obtuse apothecary?”  
“Says the crackpot who has not one single grandchild under her roof.”  
“They were not under my care, you old wrinkle bag.”  
“I have more serious cases than a couple of finicky brats and royal loonies.”  
“I’d give you a serious case of finicky nose if we hadn’t to find them.”  
“So, we make an alarm sound, cousin?”  
“And have the whole kingdom knowing you can’t take care of a couple of finicky brats? Nay, not even you deserve this fate.”  
“Where to search second? I mean, because here was the first place I considered searching.”  
Dís thought for a while and decided.  
“Ellen mentioned that the children would probably be with the halflings, before she went to Dale. Maybe Knee and Frérin went to them, too? After all, Lily’s sister is one of them and should be there.”  
“Hmm, maybe. There was a bunch of halflings in the Healing House, earlier, but they are all gone to their lodgings by now.”  
“Good. There we go.”

000ooo000

The whole bunch of dwarflings ran out of Bofur’s house, accompanied by a certain barrel-bellied rabbit, carefully carried in Zifur’s arms. They found their way to the closest stoneyard where they used to play and sat down to make their plans.  
“Of course we want to help. Fíli and Lyn are our buddies, our fellows!” Dibur was wrathful with the idea that they would not be allowed to take part in the adventure. His twin brother completed.  
“And when would we have the chance to kick some goblin arses if it weren’t for this?” Noticing the strange looks he was receving, Difur tried to make things lighter. “I mean, I’d rather kick some goblin arses without having them both in danger, of course…”  
Knee looked down at the folded hands in his lap and tried to make up his mind.  
“I know all of you want to help, but… this is no theatre presentation, this is not a thing that we all rehearsed and everyone will act as planned. The goblins will want to kill us, for true, and we can’t count on any hero to rescue us at the last moment, even if we know our parents are going to try to rescue them too.”  
“Ehm, Knee…?”  
“Aye, Zifur?”  
“If our parents are going to rescue them, why are you going too?”  
“Because…” The dwelf took in a deep breath before answering, finding his own answers before giving them to his friend. “I cannot stand iddle when others fight this battle! They… they are my siblings, Zifur, my own blood, and Leri and Mister Ferumbras…” He pouted. “And I know we can find them faster than anyone else, but no one would listen to me because I’m just twenty-six and I have no beard.”  
“Understood. Then it’s decided, we go on this quest.”  
“No!” He turned anguished eyes to the red-headed brothers. “You don’t understand, it will be dangerous, and you are even younger than me and…”  
“And so is Kim.”  
Knee looked up at the brown-green eyes Firc inherited from her father, exasperated.  
“Once more: we need Hazel to track them, and only Kim is able to command the rabbit. If I had any other way, she’d be kept here safe and sound until all this ends, but I have not!”  
“This is not fair!”  
“Not fair would be to get locked in a dungeon for life for putting you all in danger.”  
“You have no choice.” Stated Rori, opening his mouth for the first time. “We all will follow you, if you want it or not.”  
"No, Rori, it is too dangerous, you stay in the mountain."  
"If it were so dangerous, you wouldn't be taking Kim with you."  
Knee shook his head, thinking how on Middle-earth he would convince Ori's son to stay behind with the others.  
"Kim must go because she is the only one who can make Hazel to search for Lyn and Fíli, can’t you understand?” Another reasoning came to his mind and he used it at once. “Now, do you know how much your Uncle Dori will fuss about?"  
The dwarfling crossed his arms in defiance.  
"It never kept my Uncle Nori from doing whatever he wanted. Nor Adad, by the way."  
Frérin agreed with Knee on the matter of leaving their younger fellows behind, mostly mister Bofur ones, as Zifur was as young as Fíli and Firc, well, Firc was a girl, and girls should be protected. But even being the older of the bunch, Rori’s case was… better to say things openly, he decided.  
“Rori, we at least know which end of a sword to grasp; as long as I know, you are being trained into a scribe just like your father.”  
“Adad being a scribe didn’t keep him from fighting trolls, orcs and a dragon; besides, I won’t be a scribe, I’ll be a diplomat, just like Uncle Nori!”  
Frérin thought if it was the moment to tell him what kind of diplomat his uncle really was, but decided against it and bit his lip.  
“Are you sure you want to put your diplomatic skills to the test with the goblins?”  
The youngster stern eyes flickered flames when he took his hand out of a pocket of his overcoat.  
“Don’t forget I have this!”  
His triumphant show of a sling would be dramatic if it weren’t comical, but none would dispute his right to select it as his weapon of choice. He was right, Ori had fought every kind of creature with one like that. Feeling defeated before the fight even started, Knee heaved a sight.  
“All right. Out we go, and be as inconspicuous as you can.”


	64. A Flight Uncovered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, I think I'm getting the knack of it again and I'll probably post a new chapter every 10 days or, so; I hope you enjoy ii as much as I am, and don't forget to review!

Difur and Dibur had gone ‘to borrow’ some traveling food from one of the main pantries while Firc and Frérin took advantage that the market place had alrady several closed stalls and tried to ‘borrow’ at least one scooter with cart to help them carry Kim and her heavy rabbit outdoors so they could go faster. As Zirc had asked them to come back before supper, Firc and Zifur had no excuse to take their own at home, and to go to the royal home was out of question.  
Knee and Rori hid behind a huge statue of Thráin I, the one under whose reign the Arkenstone had been found in 1.999 of the Third Age, and father to the first ruler called Thorin in Durin’s line. Taking it as a good omen, Knee opened the burlap sac with Rori to help him sort out the few weapons he had borrowed from the crypts while Kim held Hazel in her lap and both dozzed off a bit.  
“Mahal forgive us, you stole the preferred weapons of our kings of old!”  
Knee sent Rori the same daranged look he sent to Frérin not long ago.  
“You are free to back off anytime you wish, Rori, but if you open your mouth to anyone about what we’re going to do I swear by my father’s beard that you will repent it for the rest of your life!”  
The youngster’s resolution reapeared at once, as to cower to anything would only relate him to the seemingly soft figure by which his father was undeservedly known and he replied, indignant.  
“I wouldn’t back off not even from a dragon!” He reached out and took a warhammer from the small pile. “Whose is this?”  
Knee just glanced up at the weapon to confirm what had been taken.  
“This is Borin’s warhammer. He was great-grandfather to Uncles Balin and Dwalin, and also to…”  
“Misters Óin and Glóin, that’s why you are all related. Borin was brother to King Dáin I.” Knee eyed his friend with a slight smile in his lips. “I take my history lessons seriously, if this is what you want to ask.”  
“I was about to say that… it will be an honor to fight by your side and... and if I don’t come out of this alive, I confide in your hands to write it down for history.”  
Rori was visibly touched, but sheepish all the same.  
“You know I will not be a scribe, Knee…”  
“But do it all the same. For me. And for my siblings that are out there in the hands of the goblins.”  
The youngster’s dark gold eyes shone with emotion.  
“Shut up, you unfinished project of a crown prince! We will al come back from this and will laugh on our smoothies before long!”  
Knee smiled truly and touched his forehead with his shy friend. He understood why his grand-uncle had set out of the Blue Mountains with just a dozen dwarves with the intention of reclaiming that mountain from a dragon. With companions like that, all was believable, and all was possible.  
The others came back just a moment later, Frérin driving a scooter with an attachable cart just like he and Knee used to drag Kim around, albeit a little larger. The cart was full with Zifur and some packs of way-bread, the right size to be stuck in a pocket, and the others carried waterskins, not enough for each one to have one, but two children could easily share a flask designed for one adult. Besides, the recovered forest that surrounded the Lonely Mountain had its amount of water sources, and Kim had pointed out that the last place they were was beside a stream. They would have to get there in first place to start the search, so they would be able to refill if needed.  
Dibur, who would obviously go in the same path of his father’s roundness, was sweating after the short run.  
“We are lucky. A merchant from Dale spent too much time flirting a kitchen maid and was late to deliver his goods; his wagon shall pass here in kind of half an hour, with some distraction we may be able to hide inside it to get through the gates.”  
“Thant would be awesome!”  
“Are we ready?” Asked Firc, hard-headed, stucking some cram in the pocket of her overcoat.  
“Almost. We don’t have weapons for everyone, but these are fit for adults, so I don’t think the younger ones would be able to handle them at all. Here, Fré!” Knee handled his brother the war axe of Thráin I, hoping it would bring him luck. “Difur, Dibur, you take these.”  
The twin falchions his deceased Uncle used to wield were placed in the hands of the twin sons of faithful Bombur. Firc sent him angry daggers with her eyes.  
“Hey! What about me?”  
Knee heaved a tired sigh.  
“Firc, you are not a shieldmaiden… yet.” He added, in the hope to calm her down.  
“Nor are Dibur and Difur!” She stated, angry. “I mean, of course they’ll never be shieldmaidens, but… but… they’re just fourteen, and I am sixteen, why did you give them weapons and none to me? This is… this is unfair!”  
It was Frérin who tried to ease things down, with a hand on her shoulder.  
“Firc, unfair would be having a Jewel like you fighting for the safety of those two instead of the contrary.”  
“Fré, it is not a matter of jewelling, right? With all respect, what can Difur and Dibur do to a goblin? Sit on it until it chokes?”  
“Hey!”  
“We’re not completely worthless!”  
The indignant complains made little to change Bofur’s firstborn.  
“No, you’re not! At least you serve as a bad example!”  
The brothers looked at each other with gaping mouths and made for the despising girl, stopping only by Knee’s stern eyes and the tip of a sword pointed to them.  
“If you cannot work togheter now, you’ll be of no use in the forest. You three, what have you to say on you behalf?”  
“Ah, erm, we…”  
“At least I’ve been sparring with Lyn, and I know how to use something different from a ladle.”  
“You don’t disdain the potential of a ladle, lady!”  
“Nor you the results of sparring, buddies! I’ve seen Firc and Lyn fighting far more times than I’ve seen you both in a pantry, and that is saying a lot. All of you behave as you should, else none will get out on this quest!” If it would be that hard to keep his Young Company in its tracks, maybe it would be better to go alone with Frérin, Knee mused to himself.  
His musings were cut short by a strong hand on his shoulder and the heavy breathing of someone who just jumped down from a nearby watching post.  
“What, in Durin’s name, are you brats up to?”

000ooo000

“Since the blasted halflings are not in their apartments, they can be anywhere, for all purposes.”  
“Most probably at an inn, which means anywhere in the Mountain.”  
“Or outside it, in Dale.”  
“Nay, they never went outside since they came, save for the orc raid and the wedding, they wouldn’t give themselves the trouble of going to Dale.”  
“And Knee and Frérin wouldn’t go to an inn right after fleeing the Healing House, it doesn’t make sense.”  
“Humpf. As if my grandsons cared much about making any sense.”  
Dís and Óin walked some more, aimless, trying to figure out where the lads could be. It was her motherly instinct that gave them the next goal.  
“Hey! They may be at Bofur, Zirc uses to watch them sometimes, they might be missing the fun of being around other children!”  
“Aye, and they were quite bored under my care, this makes sense.”  
They picked up their pace to go back to the level and wing of the mountain that lodged both the royal dwellings and some of the high ranked dwarves’ families; Bofur, like some other members of the Company, would rather have his home nearer to people he was closer to when living in the Blue Mountains, but Dwalin’s safety guidelines forbade it.  
Zirc could be seen from afar, her dark mane and delicate beard plaited with gold beads set with almandine garnets; she held an oil lamp in her hand and was about to turn a corner when Dís shout her name and she turned to them, surprised.  
‘Hoy, Dís!” She caught herself being herself in public and blushed, curtsying. “I mean, what an honour to have you here, Princess Dís!”  
Dís rolled her eyes and fastened her step a little more.  
“Zirc, my darling, are my grandchildren here, by any chance?”  
The dwarrowdam looked thorn between confusion and the shame of having lost her own kids, topped with the last words of Bofur, asking her not to spread it out about the kidnapping. But Dís was their grandmother, wasn’t she?  
“Well, actually… Kim was right here with the others, but they set out to play ‘reclaim the Mountain’ and…”  
“Mahal be praised!” Óin heaved a sigh. “Knee and Frérin too, I hope…?”  
“What? No, they have stonepox, don’t they…?”  
“Erm, just the late symptoms, nothing more…”  
“Now, wait!” The music box craftswoman blinked. “Shouldn’t the duo be at the Healing House?”  
“Ah, well…”  
Dís cut Óin short.  
“This piece of decrepitude lost them. We had a hope they’d be with the halflings, or here. Now we have to think about another place they may be.”  
Zirc felt disconcerted, considering that she just found out that she lost not only Kim but both her own children, two nephews and a friend.  
“The bairns were here not an hour ago, I’m sure.” She looked around as if they could have grown wings and be on the top of any dwelling around. “I told them to be back for supper, they’d just gone play a little oustside!”  
“Did you look around? In the places they use to go?”  
“Yes, I just came back to check if they had come home by any chance while I was looking for them, and I was about to make a wider round, but they seem to have vanished!”  
“Now is time to sound an alarm, in my opinion.”  
Dís whacked Óin’s neck and scowled.  
“What a pretty sight, the whole kingdom knowing the crown prince and his siblings are missing along with the whole bunch of bairns of the Company!”  
“Anyway, if the queen didn’t want to spread the news of the kidnapping, she would not be glad if it were known about any other missing heir.”  
The princess mother choked and Óin’s chin dropped.  
“What?”  
“What what?”  
“What kidnapping?  
Then it struck Zirc. When Bofur asked her not to spread news about the kidnapping he didn’t explain it included Dís. Now she had spilled the beans and most probably several people would incurr in the old lady’s wrath, including herself.  
“Ah, erm…”  
“Zirc daughter of Drauzi, what kidnapping?”  
Seeing the anger in Dís’ eyes would soon burst into flames, she splurt it out in one breath.  
“Bofur-said-Lyn-and-Fíli-were-taken-by-goblins-and-they-were-going-after-them.”  
The world turned around her twice until Dìs regained control over herself. Two of her precious babies in the hands of goblins. Two more missing from Óin’s care. And the remaining one disapeared from Zirc’s house. All of them, all of them lost, at once. That’s why Ellen was so evasive when she asked about what was happening, and why she didn’t give a direct answer when asked where the children were. And so Gwendolin. The human woman sure knew what was going on and had gone to Dale warn Kíli. Not about Ellen’s supposed anger but about a kidnapping, and Ellen was not going to hunt Kíli, but goblins. Everything made sense now, except…  
“Why are all the kids missing?” She whispered almost to herself, when an insight burst a red light in her mind. “Zirc, you said they were playing ‘reclaim the Mountain’…?  
“Yes…?” She answered, uncertain if what she said would help or bring on her Dís’ wrath. “I even asked what the Young Company of Thorin Oakenshield would do today, and Firc said they would just escape Mirkwood and kill some orcs…”  
“Escape Mirkwood…”  
Dís and Óin exchanged alarmed wide-eyed glances.  
“…Or Erebor?”  
“Mahal have mercy, they’ve gone after Lyn and Fìli!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note on details:  
> A small amount of research was needed for this chapter to get right. As the weapons stolen from the crypts had to be from the former kings or at least royalty, they could only be from three time periods:  
> A) Fist, dwarves who lived between 1.999 to 2.210 (Third Age) under the reign of Thráin I and his son Thorin I, who made the kingdom to leave the Lonely Mountain.  
> B) The second possible timing is from when Thrór (Thorin Oakenshield’s grandfather) brought the kingdom back by 2.590 and when Smaug overtook it in 2.770.  
> C) Third, Thorin Oakenshield and Fíli.  
> So, from the Line of the Dwarves of Erebor as depicted in Lord of the Rings – The Return of the King – Apendix A-III, it left me only:  
> A) Thráin I, (died in 2.190)  
> B) Borin (died 2.711 - father of Farin and grandfather of Fundin (father of Balin and Dwalin) and of Gróin (father of Óin and Glóin))  
> C) Thorin and Fíli  
> As it is mentioned in The Hobbit book that Orcrist has been left on Thorin’s tomb, I assumed that the weapons of choice of each king or royalty were usually left on their tombs; so I had available Orcrist on Thorin’s tomb and Fíli’s twin falchions. I thought it reasonable to have some clasic dwarven weapons for the remaining, an axe for Thráin I and a warhammer for Borin.  
> Any doubts on other details in this or other chapters can be asked by review or PM.


	65. War-Moot in Dale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, I know it’s been longer than promised, bu what was to be just a scene in a chapter turned out to be a whole chapter, even if not thaaat long. So, here goes a chunk of dwarf meat to the angry sharks that surround my little boat!  
> Feel free to review, constructive words are always welcome.

The last light of the afternoon was filtering through the curtains of the Conference Chamber in the rebuilt House of the Kings of Dale. It was almost at the top of the round shaped main tower of the House, where from one could behold the landscape in all directions, Erebor to the north, Long Lake far to the south, forests and tillage to the west and to the east. The assembled ones had spent most of the day talking, hearing, arguing, pondering, ruminating, mulling, charting, forecasting, outlining, skeletonizing, drafting, sketching, everything but deciding.  
Dwalin was trying to dig a trail on the floor where he walked there and back again while listening to the endless arguing about risks and odds and what was the part of each of the Free Peoples in the orc issue. Glóin was about top make him company when Kíli himself decided everything worthy of being said had already been said, and rose from his seat next to Bard.  
“I’m happy to know all of us have reasons to consider the orcs our enemies. Now, next steps, please? And I mean whos and whats; the whens and hows are to be found out in due time.”  
Raising an eyebrow, Haldir pointed his opinion out, under the keen eyes of Arwen.  
“Lórien is having trouble enough as it is with orcs that venture out of Moria to our lands. I doubt our Lady would spare warriors of ours into a quest for Gundabad.”  
“I fear this is not answer enough for the questions King Kíli posed.” The risen eyebrow dropped in a frown at Arwen’s intervention. “We’ll inform Lady Galadriel of the plans that are being made here; even if it shows not possible to send help in the form of warriors, to keep the orcs of Moria busy so that they cannot march north to Gundabad may be worth a try. Anyway, it will take years to muster all the forces needed for such an endeavour, I suppose.”  
“Thank you, milady. You suppose rightly.” The dwarf king bowed his head slightly.   
One of Arwen’s brothers (Kíli could never tell one from the other) made a gesture to his twin, who aquiesced and spoke out.  
“We have to report to our father some problems we noticed in the pass of the Hoardale when coming hither, if it is not solved soon there’s a chance that pass will become dangerous, as well as the plains of the Coldfells. After this is solved, Imladris may be able to prepare to help. We cannot forget Gundabad is strategic if someone wants to make the witch-kingdom of Angmar rise again.”  
Estel nodded in agreement, his own mental map of the region forming in his mind.  
“I’m expected back in Meduseld in some months, and I’ll ask King Thengel if there is any means to send help. Unfortunately, the Dunlandings have been giving Rohan quite the trouble lately, so I can’t promisse much help. On the other hand, I confide in Halbarad to muster the Dúnedain of Arnor while I’m away in the South, so we’ll be ready when the time comes. Halbarad?”  
His second-in-command turned to the assembled leaders.   
“We need time to send word to all of us, as I deem you all are aware we are a scattered people.” Several grave faces aquiesced, the dwaves pondering they knew all too well what that was like. “At least two years to be ready. Our forces coming from West while yours come from the East might be a good move.”  
“I thank you very much. Estel, do you deem it possible to be present when we strike?”  
The ranger looked at the young dwarf king with his stern grey blue eyes.  
“I intend to spend some time in Gondor after I finish what I have to do in Rohan, but send word and I’ll come. Cleansing Gundabad might be a giant leap for the Free Peoples against the Darkness, and I aim to take part in it, even if only a small step.”  
“It touches us to count on so many friends to solve this menace. Even if Gundabad is closer to other realms, those orcs historically choose the people of Durin over others when they decide to war on someone.”  
Dwalin grunted to himself, always grumpy on what he deemed too much fairness to people who didn’t deserve it. Sometimes his sister was too much the politician for his taste and was spreading it around her; not that his older brother wasn’t quite the politician too, so he wasn’t sure whose of his siblings to blame for Kíli’s behavior. His musings we cut short by the blond elf who took the word.  
“Talking about closer realms…” It had not been Kíli’s intention, but to mention closer realms had harassed the prince of woodland. “It would be easy for us to cross Greylin and Langwell and make an approach from south-east to make a three-sided approach, if it suits Erebor to cross the Ered Mithrim and strike from north-east.”  
“A strike from north-east might be possible, moreover if the Stonefoots from the Grey Mountains attend the summoning.” Added Nori, calculating the numbers that could be mustered from other tribes.  
“The Stonefoots will attend the summoning, Nori.” Kíli rose his dark emerald eyes to his long time friend. “As will Dáin Ironfoot from the Iron Hills and the Stiffbeards from Rhûn Mountains and the Firebeards of Nogrod and the Broadbeams of Belegost and the Ironfists of the South Blue Mountains. Most of the Stiffbeards moved to Drúwaith Iaur, but they can be called for, too.”  
Dwalin raised a brow to Kíli’s confidence.  
“That is yet to be seen. They didn’t heed Thorin’s call when summoned to fight Smaug.”  
“No, they didn’t. But Thorin was not in hold of the Arkenstone.”  
“Erm, technically, nor are you…”  
Kíli swirled fast to Nori’s clash, uncomfortable of having one of his own High Council to question him in front of leaders of other Peoples. The expression lines around his eyes and mouth showed his displeasure.  
“Then make it be known, Nori son of Dwori, that I’ll take the Arkenstone from Thorin Oakenshield’s stone fingers with my own hands if it need be.”  
The silence that followed his statement was almost heavy, as if forementioned Smaug’s fumes had spread around the Conference Chamber and clouded their sights. Kíli sat again next to Bard, his brows knotted as an angry catterpilar, his chin high in defiance to any questioning from the moot or from his own fellows.  
The King of Dale felt that it was his turn to lead the conversation, even if the whole day meeting was already granting him migraines.  
“So, to the questions who and what, all we have ‘till now is no certainty from Lórien, nor from Rohan; they are far realms anyway, and we understand their own threats are to be considered by their rulers with more care than what troubles realms this far away lands. We have hopes in Rivendel, and promises in the Dúnedain and in our neighbours in the Greenwood.” The Dragonslayer waited a moment to see if his mention of Thranduil’s realm as Greenwood instead of Mirkwood would be noticed. Legolas and Tauriel half rose one eyebrow in unison, confirming the human’s feeling. “Erebor already knows what Dale can offer, and there is to be confirmed what forces the dwarves of the seven realms will be able to send to heed this call, and when. It may not be much, but is what we have.”  
“The pathways from the Carrock to where the Rhimdat meets the Anduin will be closely watched, even if this is not the main thing in this thingy thing of yours.” Beorn opened his mouth for the first time in the whole day, scratching his black squirrel behind the ears. “And all of us may have some furry information on what happens along the lands between Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains.”  
Dwalin felt himself confounded when the black squirrel left the bear-man’s shoulder and climbed his trousers and more, until the furry being made himself comfortable on the left shoulder of the dwarf and started to poke behind his ear. Grabbing the little rascal by the furr in the neck and placing him on his cupped hand, the warrior spoke out his mind.  
“So, this makes it. Considering that the loss of all those high ranked orcs might have been a blow on the Gundabad forces, then two to three years of mustering will have to do; if we wait much longer they will recover from this battle and come back against us in full force, and this cannot be allowed.”  
“We’ll need to build up provisions and all the paraphernalia required for this endeavour. Three years is more feasible.” Added Glóin, in his pragmatic manner.  
“Thank you, sires, for all your offers and advice. The answer to the third question, the whens, has already found its way to us. But there’s also the how many that occurs me now.” Kíli’s eyebrows could not have gone closer. “To fight them outnumbered as our people was in Azanulbizar is not acceptable, as well as sending youngsters to war as happened then; we must find out the size of Gundabad forces and build our opposing ones to have the upper hand.”  
“Youngsters?” Tsui whispered to Beorn at his side, with a frown. “I didn’t know the dwarves send youngsters to war.”  
“They usually don’t.” The bear of a man answered to the Sun-Cheng leader. “But that war endured six years, and the Battle of Azanulbizar was the last one of it. The dwarves mustered their last forces, six to ten thousands, no one knows exactly, against fifteen to twenty thousands orcs.” (1)  
Gimli, who was close to them, whispered complementarily.  
“One of the King’s grand-uncles was just fourty-eight by then, and slain in battle. My own grand-uncle Fundin was a burned dwarf (2), at the tender age of one-hundred-thirty-seven.”  
The leader of the northern people eyed the young red-bearded dwarf, suspicious.  
“Tender age of…?”  
“One-hundred-thirty-seven. My secon-uncle Dwalin, over there, was just twenty-seven then, one year older than our current crown-prince.”  
“Ah, twenty-seven…” Tsui colected the mental image of the king’s offspring, remembering the older one had a main role in the drama presentation at the banquet. The lad was sure close in age to his brother-in-law’s son, now lying unconscious in the Healing House. Now he had a good measure of what meant the dwarf king mentioning youngsters. He himself had found it daring to have Chao along in the ambush against the orcs, but the father and Shaman insisted the lad needed hands-on training… Now he was regretting his own decisions, sitting beside his younger child, with no clue if he would get along or fade. But the dwarf king would spare the youngsters of his people, despite the risk of not having enough warriors to face the danger.  
Then it struck him.  
The dwarf king would not risk going to war if they could not muster enough salted warriors to override that orc fortress; if they didn’t assault the orcs, the result would be new raids in the future, until the orcs were strong enough to override the dwarves, and the man associated to them in Dale, and…  
There would be no limits.  
Every direction would be open to the orc greed of power under the darker power that guided them. None had to tell him, the Lights of the North had warned his people. It hadn’t been clear when the prophecy came, and he never believed himself as worthy of deciphering a prophecy, but… the sound of the official conversation came back to his attention.  
“I have no doubt Rärc and his subjects can and will help us in the research phase, and afterwards in communication too. Even so, others will have to get involved in the gathering of data.”  
Tsui cleared his throat, feeling the gaze of his Master-Fisher on his shoulder. It didn’t matter.  
“Spell the number of you enemies and the numbers you need from the Sun-Cheng to overcome them. The Lights of the North will provide.”  
Kíli looked at the foreign leader in dubiety. The north-easterling delegation was so tiny, just a little show of what they were – or not, it could be just a show, – that he could not be sure. Ellen had sensed no intentional harm coming from them, but yet…  
“I’m sorry, we have not such numbers yet, Soon-Cheng Tsui.”  
“But you’ll have, your Highness. You just said it will be found out. Send word of the numbers.”  
“And...?”  
“The Lights of the North will provide. We are a people who lives in the inclement weather of the north for some reasons, and so our siblings in the other places the Lights of the North touches. One of these reasons is to be able to travel where we are needed, from Pole to Pole.”  
The foreign leader was speaking like a wizard, so Kíli had to ask for clarification of what in Durin’s name Tsui was talking about.  
“As we explained in former conversations, our people doesn’t kneel to the Darkness, nor mingle with any Twisted Soul; we keep to ourselves to guard the Lights of the North, each of our tribes in their own Pole, but if the Darkness tries to spread its wings we can travel where necessary. Mighty warriors we have in this Pole, sworn brothers in arms like Sham here with me; and many in the other Poles, possessors of fierceness and weapons like you never have seen.”  
All that talk sounded like too much alms to little prayer, and the dearf king could only ask, with all the bluntness his people was known for.  
“And why would your people come to our aid? Why would you come and face danger for peoples you barely know?”  
The silence was broken only by the crackle of the flames in the fireplace in the middle of the room when Tsui took in a deep breath to speak out his cause.  
“Because the Lights of the North told us to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – As mentioned in tolkiengateway dot net / wiki / Battle_of_Azanulbizar  
> 2 – See tolkiengateway dot net / wiki / Burned_Dwarves


	66. Army of Freaks

Now I’m the predator, I’ve become the hunter  
I will not condone the enemy at my door (…)  
We are the army of freaks  
Welcome to our world  
The army of freaks can provide all you need  
You’ll never be afraid cause we’ve nothing left to lose  
You’ve finally come home once you join the army of freaks  
Welcome to our family

(Army of Freaks – Lahannya)

000ooo000

“Mister Luzik!”  
“Nothing, nothing at all, Mister Luzik!”  
“Yes, we’re just… playing.”  
The member of the intelligence department of Erebor narrowed his eyes at the younglings. If some things about him were not clear to that bunch yet, he would make them now.  
“Who’re you taking for a fool, laddies? Do you really think Lord Nori would buy this answer?”  
Frérin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Firc took her younger brother’s hand, Rori stuck his hands inside his pockets and Difur hid a pack of cram behind his back. Kim yawned and stretched and Knee faced Luzik with stern eyes.  
“No, but he probably would sell it if is suited his intentions.”  
Luzik nodded, slowly, and considered each one of the kids. He always hoped nothing would happen to them while he was on watch, and followed the older princes since they left the Healing House in absolute silence – like the shadows his brigade was called after – until it became obvious they were about to put themselves in danger.  
“I cannot let you go ahead with your plans, whatever they are. None of you is supposed to step out of the Gate at night, unaccompanied, wearing weapons that should be resting along with their former bearers.”  
“My sister and brother are not supposed to be left to themselves in the hands of goblins, either!”  
The watchdwarf jerked his head to one side, doubtful. None reported goblins to him when his shift began.  
“Goblins? Where? When?”  
“In the west forest, a handfull of hours ago, for all we know. Kim and our cousin escaped.”  
“No, it cannot…” Something was making knots inside Luzik’s brain. “It cannot be, they had wards with them, Dowir was in charge today, I’m sure!”  
“Ugly gob’ins there, Mi’ter Dowir has boo-boo.”  
The dwarf looked at the dwelfling and back to Knee, inquiring. The young prince moved his hands quickly in answer.  
“Too many goblins, all the wards were…”  
“No…”  
Luzik paled and leant on the statue, shutting his eyes and swallowing hard.  
“Cousin Iris told us; she and Kim escaped by pure luck.”  
“Dowir, no… no…”  
Knee noticed the strong reaction to the news, and he knew how close both dwarves had been, even sharing a home in recent years. It was a heavy blow, and he wasn’t sure if it should really be on him to tell about the loss, but what else could he do? His siblings were out there, and he could not lose more time, not even on mourning those who had fallen defending them. He put a hand on the shadow’s arm.  
“Mister Luzik… We must go.”  
The dwarf swallowed his pain, but his tears flowed free on his high ckeekbones to his dark auburn beard.  
“I cannot… I cannot let you get out… my duty…”  
“Mister Luzik, I guess you are supposed to protect us, but we have a means to find them that none else has, if just Kim and Hazel come with us. Please, let us go.”  
It was against all logic, against all rules, Luzic’s reason shouted at himself.  
“You cannot fight a band of goblins, a handful of younglings cannot prevail where experienced wards failed!”  
The creak of wooden wheels could be heard not far away, and Knee shuffled on his feet. Frérin used his best puppy eyes and pleaded.  
“Please, Mister Luzik, please, we must try! The adults will take too long to get there, they can fight the goblins when they get there, all we want is to rescue them before they get hurt, please, don’t let Mister Dowir’s sacrifice be in vain!”  
The empty cart of pumpkins rounded the corner, the rithmic clip-clop of hooves on the stone floor getting into the nerves of the older dwelf full of haste. Kim looked desolated at the rabbit on her lap.  
“Aye, Hazy, Kee think ugly gob’ins will make boo-boo to Lee and Fee…”  
Luzik wiped away a fresh tear from his cheek and looked down at the younger heir of the direct line of Durin.  
“I’m sorry, Princess Kim. In my shift I’m supposed to watch over you and your brothers so you don’t get into much trouble, and…” He looked sternly to the older princes. “…and I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it while other dwarflings distract my attention to the other side of the main gate.”  
“What?”  
Nori’s agent looked at Bombur’s twins and their younger cousin.  
“Hurry. You must divert me before they reach the gate guards. Give me a lot of trouble, would ya?”

000ooo000

“Everybody ready?”   
Ellen and Bombur found Ori, Bofur and close to fifty memebers of the Silent Army in the guard room close to the front gate, most of them ready and some almost there, fixing armour, sheating weapons, grabbing water bottles and small bags of traveling food. They knew when they’d set out, but not when they would come back.  
“Aye.” Was Ori’s prompt answer. “The stables are getting the ponies saddled, we must be able to ride out in a few minutes.”  
“Thank you.”  
She watched the scribe balancing a hammer in the right hand, his preferred weapon after the sling that was already tucked in his belt. She shook her head mentally, thinking why gentle souls like him had to be turned into wariors, and it stuck her that not long ago she was nothing more than a white-collared office nerdie, spending more time with her hands on the keyboard of a notebook than on the hilt of a sword. Not that they warred on a daily basis, Mahal be thanked, but she sparred regularly, like everybody else able to lift a weapon, because that was a constant prospect. For the previously business woman, the shy scribe, the fat cook, the miner in the funny hat…   
Then she glanced around to the group of dwarves preparing themselves for a goblin hunt, those dwarves whom Bifur picked one by one, the ones who used to be at the edges of the army, a swivel-eyed here, an one-handed there, and even at the margins of society, declassed, some survivors of Azanulbizar bearers of post-traumatic stress disorder who should be treated as dignified veterans but were eyed as loons; some whose early life had been too harsh and developed socialization disorders; those were Bifur’s clay and those he molded into stone-hard soldiers, an elite troop of Erebor, able to perform whatever was asked from them without a single sound, even if not all of them were speechless when out of service.   
How Bifur accomplished is was a mistery, but once again Ellen thanked the Valar for his initiative, that at first she deemed just an inclusive action, something that would mean more for the well being and moral of the disabled ones than to Erebor’s warfare.   
Seldom had her first impression on something been so wrong.  
“Parin!” She called for Bifur’s second-in-command. The blonde dwarf with the left ear missing and a metal prosthesis helping to keep his jaw in place walked in her direction, a dadly sharp axe ready in his hand. A grunt and a quick movement of his fingers served as greeting and asking her for orders. “We’ll make for Nutty Creek, about on hour on hooves from the road; that’s where they’ve been seen last. From then on we must be cautious, the goblin scum wants to attract us but we are not to play their game. Any doubt?”  
The dwarf blinked like an owl, as if needing a moment to process that bit of information. If Ellen weren’t used to this behavior, she probably would think twice about using him and his companions in this rescue. The words he signaled in Iglishmêk almost made her think twice anyway.  
“Which game are we to play with them, Milady?”  
Ellen facepalmed before hearing Parin’s soft chuckle.  
“Hide-and-seek, Parin, hide-and-seek…”  
Everyone who was ready set for the stables close by, followed by a couple of disabled dwarves who finished to don their armor or other stuff while rushing behind the main group. The ponies were ready to leave, small but sturdy beasts bred to face rough paths and keep their speed even when well loaded, and it was not the case. They would travel light and fast, and only minimal supplies had been loaded, including first aid stuff like bandages, antiseptic poultices and painkiller potions. Shrouds had been included, as they sadly knew they would find fallen brothers, and, to those, rightful burials would be granted.  
Some angry voices caught their attention just when they were mounting.  
“Hey, what…?”   
There was no need for keen elvish eyes to notice there was some trouble going on by the east side of the wide front gate. The last carters of the day were complaining about some delay in the check out, which was uncommon, and some wards were getting loud about some pedestrians. In a hurry to leave the mountain without her mother-in-law knowing about her real purpose, not wanting to have any attention drawn on her and her small troop movements, Ellen asked one of her best friends to do something.  
“Bofur, please see what’s going on, you know where we’re going to, catch up with us as soon as possible.”  
With a wink of his eye as an acquiescence, the toymaker urged his pony to the other side of the atrium where the small turmoil was having place. One of the checkers quickly noticed the wearer of the absurd hat and greeted him with a deep bow and wide eyes.  
“Lord Bofur! What can we…”  
“What’s going on?”  
He wasn’t used to be sharp, but time urged.  
“It’s the halflings, my lord, they…”  
“What?”  
He searched the group of people, looking for the source of mayhem. The wide grin on Saradoc’s face was answer enough.  
“Hi, Bofur! Wanna have an ale in Dale too?”  
The lack of any title shocked the checker, mostly because he was the one who was preventing the halflings from getting out.  
“They are trying to leave Erebor, but they have not even admittance papers, moreover vouchers to leave, and…”  
Bofur shook his head and rolled his eyes.  
“Don’t you know who they are, Bangor?”  
‘Yes, but…”  
“So, you are begrudging loyal friends to the King leave to have some fun at our neighbour town?”  
“No, sir, it’s just…”  
“So, they have leave to fight against an orc raid in defence of our kingdom but not to have some fun outside our gates?”  
“Lord Bofur, I’m just doing my job!”  
“Is your job to upset guests hosted in the royal wing?” The mumur of angry carters who would reach home later than planned was getting louder. “Durin’s beard, just let them go and allow those workers to have their well deserved rest!”  
Saradoc cheered Bofur’s decision along with his brother Merimac and their cousin Ferdinand Took while Bangor frowned and took some notes on his record book before bidding them a safe stroll and a brief return, just because it was the protocol, not because he really wanted to see those halflings anytime soon after getting scolded by a member the Company in behalf of them. Bofur rode off after an amused smile to the hobbits, knowing he was being expected for a more imprtant issue than releasing some friends to have their ale, and Bangor let the carters check out without more than a glance to their papers.

000ooo000

Balin hurried out of his office followed by Dori, both of them startled by the sound of a loud knocking at the door.  
“What, by Mahal’s sake…”  
“Exactly!” Was Dís’ answer. “Only by the love of Mahal will we get them!”  
“Get who?” Asked a flabbergasted Dori, wide eyes on the princess, Óin and Zirc.  
“The younglings!”  
“What younglings?”  
“All of them!” Óin threw his hands to the air. “Or, at least, most of them.”  
“Óin, you’re not making any sense…”  
“He’s not used to.” Dís offered promptly. “Anyway, come with us, we might find them easier if we’re in more people.”  
Grabbing her cousin by the hem of the sleeve, the princess dragged Balin behind her in the general direction of the front gate, the others in tow.  
“Find them? Find who? Find them where?”  
“The whole ratatouille, Dori, from my grandchildren to your nephew, and if we are lucky, inside the mountain.”

000ooo000

The small troop had barely reached the first bend of the road when the sound of wide steel doors getting closed reached their ears.  
“There must be some problem happening, who would order the gates to be closed?”  
Ellen’s chin quivered at Ori’s wondering, but she headed forward anyway, mind set on retireving her children from the goblins.  
“The few ones who have authority to close the gates also have the discernment to choose why and when to do so. We cannot head back, we’ve been too much delayed already.”  
A whistle that sounded like a long-eared owl signaled them to move, and soon four dozen ponies plus a dark brown horse were leaving the convenience of the cobblestone road and disappearing into the woodland west of Erebor.


	67. Chapter 68 – Asking for Directions

The stableman – or stabledwarf, as you wish – made saucer eyes when she handled him Ellen’s short note, then shouted some orders to a nearby lad and turned back to the woman, questioningly.  
“Are ye sure ye can handle a racehorse?”  
“Well, I never took part in a competition, but I’m having no problem with the horse they lent me in Mirkwood.”  
The dwarf chuckled.  
“Ah, but that one is of elvish breed. Mild, soft horses they have in their keep, lassie, nothing compared to the one the Queen asked to be saddled for ye.”  
Gwendolin fingered her father’s ring pending from her neck, asking herself if she didn’t get into a trouble too deep to handle.  
“Erm, is this horse too… wild?”  
“What? No!” He laughed heartedly. “But he likes a good long stretch to run. Bred in the plains of Rohan, not in that stifling forest.”  
“A horse from Rohan?” A smile won her lips at the memory of the viking-like riders she saw in the movie. “Like Scadufax?”  
“Scadufax?” Th dwarf blinked. “What is this one?”  
“That was the horse of…” Gwendolin quickly bit her tongue else it would slip again. “…of a person I heard about.”  
The foreman – foredwarf? – of the stables thought it strange that someone would be so impressed by a horse she only heard about, but the rumors were that the human woman who had come with the elves was strange through and through, so…  
“Ah, here it is!” The soft clip-clop on the straw covered floor announced the arrival of a tall and beautiful horse led by a young dwarf, which the elder one ignored and proceeded to talk about the horse as if it were a person. “Lady Gwendolin, let me introduce ye to Silver. Silver, this is Gwendolin, and she is a friend. Give her a smooth ride, will ye?”  
The woman reached out a hand to touch Silver’s muzzle, mesmerized by his light grey pelage and intelligent eyes. He returned her caress with a soft neigh that made his silky mane to weave like a shampoo ad, and Gwendolin smiled when she noticed some tiny braids set with silver beads.  
“Good boy, Silver!” She patted his neck and smiled back to the dwarf. “I think he likes me!”  
The dwarf chuckled.  
“I bet my beard he does, lassie! Now, off ye go, someone must need ye quickly in Dale if Queen Ellen is willing to lend ye Silver.”  
“Yes, I really must be there soon.”  
A small tabouret was put beside the horse to help the woman to mount , to what the huge hound of the north lifted his ears and started to jump around them, a small whining escaping his snout.  
“Easy, doggie, you come along too.” Gwendolin calmed the dog, who seemed to understand. The stabledwarves looked impressed by her apparent control over the beast, and mentioned it.  
“Do ye not fear this wolf?”  
“Wolf? What wolf?” The foreman motioned to the sleigh dog with his thumb. “Ah, Liao Wang? He is not a wolf, he’s just Chao’s dog!”  
As if sensing the dwarves feared him, the imposing silvery dog lay down with his muzzle on his front paws, sending them a perfect puppy look with his violet eyes. Gwendolin smiled down at them.  
“See? He’s just a good doggie, he wouldn’t harm a fly.”  
The dwarves exchanged knowing glances and led the horse by the reins until the woman was out of the stable, bidding her a safe ride.  
“So, what they say about the King’s guest is true.”  
“Aye, true it is.”  
“Mad as a hatter.”  
“Crazy as a loon.”  
“You owe me a silver piece.”  
“Aye.”

000ooo000

Gwendolin had been riding at a fast but somewhat restrained pace for about ten minutes, getting the feeling of the mount, when she noticed the next mile or so was free of carts and other equines. Liao Wang trotted happily beside them, watchful eyes surveying the landscape in search for any threat.  
Feeling more comfortable with the horse and sensing that was her best chance to do it, she couldn’t resist the catch phrase.  
“Hey, proud son of Rohan, will you show me the meaning of haste?” Gwendolin bent forward, grabbed the reins more tightly and cried. “Hi-Yo, Silver!”  
The whoosh of the wind in her ears was indescribable, as was the feeling of freedom that invaded her heart. Silver knew his name, and seemingly the old TV series was remembered by his owner as well as by his new rider. The horse knew the way and how to keep his passenger in his back despite his speed, and both enjoyed it a lot.  
Liao Wang made his best to follow them, showing that if the nature of his race was not in sprint speed, as it was with the big felines, it was in resistance and persistence. A pack of snow dogs like him could chase a caribou herd for days non-stop until the right chance of a kill came. In the happenstance of him being left behind by the woman on the grey horse, he would find them. It could take days, but he would find them.  
But it would not be this time that the young dog of the north would be left behind. The horse’s gallop speed was truly fast, more than thirty miles per hour, but the young sleigh dog would not make more than twelve miles per hour if he were in a crew, but running free and without change, he could reach the same speed of the horse for that short stretch of good road and still be able to run the next day.  
Soon, after a bend of the road, a somewhat narrower path led right, and Gwendolin knew it must be the road to Lake Town. Silver didn’t even consider the side path and kept the wide cobblestone road to Dale. The bridge over River Running stood before them, and torches shed light on the wide gate. Gwendolin made Silver to slow down, both with the reins and speaking ot him.  
“Whoa, Silver, whoa…”  
A loud snort and they came to a halt, only for Gwendolin to roll her eyes at the length of the queue of carts and people waiting to enter in Dale while others left said town and headed back to Erebor.  
Actually the queue was not that long, two carts and less than half a dozen people on horse or foot, but her haste and her being used to the frenetic rhythm of San Diego turned that into an unbearable wait. And then there were children in danger, and they could not afford that delay.  
“Excuse me…” She tried to guide Silver past the people in front of her. “Excuse me, I must get in…”  
“Everybody here musts, lass.”   
Retorted a crooked middle-aged man from atop a spotted horse.  
“You don’t understand, I’m in haste…”  
“Should’ve left home earlier, then.”  
Silver tried to side step the spotted horse, but the man was enjoying to spread his bad mood on the first victim available and made his horse to move so as to hinder the newcomer. Gwendolin fingered the reins.  
“Mister, would you please let me pass? I must talk to King Kíli!”  
“Wrong end of the road, lass! Here is place of man, not of shorties!”  
The blonde woman puffed at the witty but prejudiced remark, and Silver sputtered in agreement, advancing against the spotted horse without qualms about harassing a smaller sized beast.  
“If I didn’t know King Kíli is in a meeting in Dale I wouldn’t be here, you disgusting peabrain of a moron!”  
The man didn’t like her ‘compliments’ nor Silver’s attitudes, and seemed willing to enjoy a bit of fight against someone smaller than him, even if not by much.  
“Like if you knew where you are at all, wench!”  
“More than you know your part in the world’s functioning, mister!”  
Having being rised by noons at an orphanage didn’t only turn her into a docile being who tried her best to avoid conflict; it also turned her into someone who didn’t accept insult, nor injustice, and atop it all she was worried dead about the kids and Ferumbras, who had become a dear friend to her. That rough man was a hindrance to what she had set out of Erebor to do, and all the adrenaline of the recent ride didn’t help her to be a role model for a candidate to Miss Universe, on the contrary. ‘World Peace’ was not in her mind right then, only if meaning to demolish Sauron’s tower in Mordor and kicking Saruman’s arse for a significant amount of miles as a means to achieve peace for the Free Peoples of Middle-earth.  
“Stop talking bold and keep your place in line, wench!”  
“I’ll show you the wench if you don’t let me pass right now, you idiot and disgusting dullard!”  
Silver accompanied Gwendolin’s anger and faced the spotted horse, but that one cowered as soon as the well treated Rohirirm steed neighed. The man felt threatened by the movement of the horse plus the woman’s stance.  
“Guards! Guards!” The yellow teethed man called out. “I’m being harassed here! An honest man can’t simply go trade in the neighborhood without being attacked by a lunatic woman who raves on talking to kings? Guards!”  
With every word the man made his poor horse to step forward, actually jumping the queue with the only escuse of being harassed by someone who really had to enter the town at once.  
“What’s the matter, Alfrid?” Humpfed the guard as if already tired of that man in particular.  
“That woman is trying to…”  
“I must talk to King Kíli at once, he is in a meeting with King Bard.” Informed Gwendolin, showing him the sigil the queen had given her.  
“What…” Whispered to himself the guard, in awe of the little gold ornament.  
“A swindler, a liar trying to get past all those poor working people who are tired and coming to their homes and…”  
“Shut up, Alfrid, and go back to your place at the end of the line!” Shouted a carter from her seat, only the second in line to enter the town.  
“But she is the…”  
The gate ward closed Gwendolin’s hand under his, hiding the sigil from view as he himself shouted at the crooked man.  
“She is someone better than you, if she has the confidence of the Sons o Durin. Now shut up and do as you’ve been told, Lickspittle!” He turned to to blonde and spoke in the same haste he sensed the woman was in. “Take the main path and turn to the left after Mirna’s tavern, then when you reach the market bear right and walk almost to the bulwark but avoid the broken fountain and turn north two blocks before it, the path will be safer and you’ll see the wood stall not long after the third turn of the street, where from the very corner you’ll be able to see the House of the Kings, but if you’re to go to the Conference Chamber it is better to use the east entrance, you’ll explain your task to the door ward and you’ll be conduced directly to where you must go. Understood?”  
“Well, I…”  
“So, welcome to Dale and have a nice stay!”  
With that the guard slapped Silver’s rump and smiled as the horse trotted on the stone bridge, with a beautiful woman on his back and a huge dog at his heels.

000ooo000

The first challenge was to determine which was the main path, as all paths looked the same to her unacquainted eyes, with no indication of whatever kind.  
“If I only were going to Rome…”  
Muttered Gwendolin to herself, trying to understand if the main path was the larger one or the more illuminated one. Unconsciously fearing for her safety in that strange town, she chose the second, and as there was no sign of which one was Mirna’s tavern, she turned right at the first one she found.  
After half an hour or wrong turns and wrong backwards attempts, in was obvious she was lost, having no idea where was the gate she had come in so she could go back and ask for directions again. The moon had just set, leaving her only the light of torches here and there to lighten the streets, and soon her only reference to tell where was north or any cardinal point had been lost.   
Just like herself.  
“If there were more people on the streets it would be easier to find someone and ask direction.”  
As soon as she muttered this to herself a double door was swung open and a drunkard thrown out, falling a few steps from her and making Silver to nicker in alarm.  
“Ok, Silver, this may not be the best place to ask for directions.” She clucked him ahead. “Hadn’t idea a city of men would be so… uncouth, the Lord forgive me my haughtiness, but Erebor and Thranduil’s halls are so much more civilized!”  
Past a corner up from where the winebag dreamt, an oil lamp hanging from a post illuminated a signboard decorated with the figure of a sheep. The light did little to illuminate the small piazza that opened around the post and spread into four more streets, but made the woman feel a bit less lost.  
“Hey, Silver, is it the wool stall the guard mentioned? Not that I remember where to go next, but…”  
As they clip-clopped ip the street, the sweet smell of pipe-weed reached her already messed up senses. Unsure of what path to take next, she headed the horse to the light post in the illusion it would shed some light on her mind.  
“Not a good place to walk alone at night, lass…”  
The harsh voice startled her, as did the hand that grabbed the reins out of her hand.   
“What…?”  
Silver didn’t like to be manhandled and reared, frightening Gwendolin even more. Grabbing the horn of the saddle for dear life, she only heard Liao Wang’s growl as the beast of the north took matters in his own paws and jumped on her attacker, making him to release the reins and to surrender control over Silver back to the woman.  
“Help! Help!” The man’s desperate cryes added to her panic. “Stop!” A gurgling sound came from the man’s throat and Gwendolin feared said throat was already bitten open as she dismounted and ran to try to control the hound. “Stop!” Squeaked he once more before she knelt beside him and pushed Liao Wang from his contorting form.  
Gwendolin’s eyes went wide as saucers when she identified Liao Wang’s victim.  
“Heaven's sake!”


	68. Cap. 69 - Greybeards in Panick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, I’m sorry for nor being able to update sooner than this, but please know the goblin arc is already set and it just has to be written down, no risk of this story to be forgotten and updated just months from here. I just have a very strong demand to publish my fics in Portuguese and I’m having such wonderful responses that I really must comply with those readers, so I’m working into translating Loyalty etc. along with updating Send me an Owl.  
> I thank you all for your reviews, you readers are just amazing! Molly, you’ll know who he is right now, and I bet a tuna can you’ll like it; The Earth Song, it will make you feel better too, I hope; Dis Thrainsdotter, some things/orcs will have to be dealt sooner than later, and things will have long lasting aftereffects.  
> If anyone still didn’t see my cosplay at Comic Con Experience (Sao Paulo, Brazil, Dcember 2014) you can take a look at my Facebook profile, there is a lot of pics already, look for Dagny Fischer Bocca, that’s me.  
> Namarië!

Dís heaved a sigh after Balin flashed the order for the front gates to be closed. Most mirror devices were set only to receive messages and they had first to run to the nearest sending point, which happened to be at Council Hall, before they ran down to the same guardroom the Silent Army used a little before.  
“Durin help us they’re still inside the Mountain!” Murmured Dori.  
“Every king’s dwarf is aware the younglings and Lily are lost, anyone who sees them will provide they’re sent to the main Healing House.” Comforted him Balin.  
“Why the Healing House? I mean, they can’t have got into so much trouble that they are hurt before even getting out doors, can they?”  
“Mahal forbid, Dori, but when we talk about my grandsons, anything is possible.”  
“Besides, those three still bear scabs from the stonepox, anyone grouwn up enough that didn’t have it before is liable to catch it.”  
“I still don’t believe you lost them, Óin!”  
“I didn’t lose them, Dís, they just weren’t in their room when I looked for them!”  
“Lost, all the same.”  
“Humpf.”  
It was not exactly a picnic for them to run here and there as they did, for the comforts of being in times of relative peace and attending to more intellectual duties rather than physical ones had its price. Dori was long panting, and Balin stopped at the top of a staircase to eye it warily before dashing it down. Dís was more used to run after the children, but Óin used to have his patients happy to be in just one place, and in just one piece, mostly.  
The clang of the closing gates had been followed by a chorus of complaining voices, which grew louder as they approached, even is answered by loud announces that it was by order of the crown. A small tumult was forming when they reached the bottom of the staircase, and a bright smile graced Dís face when she saw who was in the middle of it.  
“Mister Luzik! What a joy to see you with your arms full!”  
“I never thought I’d be happy to see one of my brother’s staff.” Mumbled Dori to himself.  
“It is always…” Luzik puffed, holding his prizes with difficulty. “…a pleasure to be of service, Milady!” One of the brats tried to escape again, but Balin caught him by the collar with an iron grip.  
“Now, now, what do we have here?” Dís narrowed her sapphire blue eyes to the dwarflings. “Difur, Dibur and Zifur. Three cousins in trouble, it seems.”  
“We’ve done nothing, Lady Grandma!”  
“Nothing, nothing!”  
“Humpf. That’s yet to be seen.” Leaning down to look them in the eyes, Dís questioned. “Where are the others?”  
“Others?” Dibur asked with round innocent eyes. “Which others?”  
“You know which others. Now start to tell me before you’re taken to the dungeons.”  
“Oh, the others!” Stated Difur as if in surprise. “We don’t know.”  
“Don’t you?”  
“No.”  
“No, no way.”  
“Absolutely.”  
“And why is it? What where you doing?”  
“Ah, we, well, we were playing to Retake Erebor and we, erm…”  
“Yes?”  
“We got lost!” Complained Zifur, holding his palms up.  
Noticing it was useless to question the younglings, Balin turned to their captor – or savior, it depends on the point of view.  
“Didn’t you see any more dwarflings?”  
Luzik swallowed the lump in his throat and answered.  
“Nay, Milord, I caught them making some racket and was going to head them home when the Gate was closed. No others were around, as far as I have seen.”  
“Erm, we lost Rori and Zirc and Kim when we decided to ste…”  
“To borrow some supplies from the kitchen.” Explained the twins, one of them showing a pack of cram as proof of their misbehavior.  
“Did you see Thorin, Frérin or Lady Lily?”  
“Who?”  
The elderly rolled his eyes.  
“My nephews and…”  
“Ah, you mean Knee!”  
Balin made a mental note that it might be time to forsake the crown prince’s nickname, for the sake of deference.  
“No, we didn’t.”  
“They’re in the Healing House, they all got stonepox.”  
The grown ups eyed Óin with an acusatory look, but the healer suddenly found his own ear trumpet very interesting and ignored them.  
“Mister Luzik, can I ask you a favor?”  
“Anything, my Princess Dís.”  
“Take these rascals to Lord Bofur’s house, his wife is worried sick about these, and tell her we’re after the remaining ones.”  
“As you wish, Milady.”  
“Are we in trouble?” Asked Zifur, almost innocently.  
“That’s yet to be seen, laddie!”  
The four greyberds watched as the trio obediently accompanied Luzik and decided on the next steps.  
“So, part of our anguish is solved. Now we know the stonepoxed ones are not with the others, which means that we’re probably after two groups of brats. Should we divide?”  
“No, Dori, I don’t believe it will help. We alredy have the whole guard aware they are missing, we’d better make other move.”  
“Specially if any of the two trios has gone after Fíli and Lyn. This the guard is not aware, nor should they be, if we are to agree with Ellen’s decision about this issue.”  
“We don’t know why she decided this, but we also don’t have all data she had to decide.”  
“At least we know Kíli has been, or is being, warned, and that Ellen is after them, too.”  
“She might be after Lyn and Fíli, but she doenst’ know about the others.”  
“Mahal be praised, she was deranged enough as it was.”  
Balin was the first to head to the guardroom.  
“I’ll ask for armour, can you please provide the ponies, Dori?”  
“Aye, as long as you provide me a set or two of bolas and a sword shaped and sized the way you know I like it, old fellow.”  
“Old is your beard, hwumûn.” (1)  
“Don’t mistake me for Óin, at least not in his presence, fellow.”  
“What?”  
“Nothing, nothing…”

000ooo000

Whiping his face clean with a sleeve, the man gigled at the stunned woman.  
“Your dog was licking the skin off my face!”  
It took her a moment more to realize the man, whose voice rasped from a cold, had actually been victim only of Liao Wang’s licking attack.  
“Ulfir?” The light shed by the oil lamp was not much, but enough for her to recognize him when that close. “You scared me!” Complained the blonde.  
Struggling to stand up with Liao Wang still trying to lick his face, Ulfir propped himself on an elbow while pushing the dog away with the other hand.  
“I scared you? And what about this fellow tackling me to the ground?”  
“I think he’s just happy to see you. It’s been a while since you left the infirmary and he… might have missed you.”  
“Nah, I’m not one to be missed.”  
“Of course you are! You…” Feeling her face turn crimson by her slip of tongue, Gwendolin pushed him down on the ground again. “You are a silly jerk, that’s what you are!”  
Ulfir fought a coughing spell induced by his laughter and she felt guilty, helping him to sit up tobe more comfortable.  
“I think I need a nurse!” He smiled weakly at her.  
“You need an earful, most probably. What are you doing here out in the cold if you are sick?”  
“I just got out of home a bit to smoke my pipe without having my mom boxing my ears.”  
“Wait. You, plus a cold, plus smoking a pipe, plus out in this weather? Sorry, Ulfir, I’ll take you personaly to your home and immobilize you while your mom boxes your ears. Seriously, are you trying to kill yourself?”  
She helped him up, awkwardly, Liao Wang still jumping on him to lick any exposed skin. Gwendolin scolded the huge dog of the north as if it were a puppy.  
“What a mess, Liao Wang, to knock Ulfir down as you did! What would Chao say to this?” The dog hid his muzzle under his paws, violet eyes staring up contritely. “Now, where do you live? I cannot leave you here out in the cold when you’re sick!”  
Ulfir shook his head at her concern.  
“I think I don’t need help to go home, Gwen, it is just over there.” He pointed to the structure of a stall with the wood engraving of a basket of fruits atop of it. “But you seem to be in need of some help to go wherever you intend to. Where are you going?”  
She heaved a sigh, defeated.  
“I must go to the Conference Chamber in the House of the Kings, I have an urgent message to Kíli.”  
“King Kíli is here? I guessed as much by the amount of ponies my brother-in-law said where stowed in the king’s stabbles, but he said there were a lot of horses too, sturdy horses of northern breed.”  
“Those must be the Dúnedain’s ones, they came along, as long as I know.”  
“So, urgent message? I’ll take you there, you are completely in the wrong way if you want to get to the House of the Kings. How did you end up here?”  
“Uh, I…”  
“Doesn’t matter. If the Queen lent you Silver it must be urgent indeed.”  
“Can you give me some directions? I mean, very slowly and clearly, if you please…”  
“I can do better, if you don’t mind.” He guided Silver to get closer to his mother’s fruit stall and made Gwendolin to step up an empty wooden box to make it easier for her to mount, then stepped on it and jumped onto the saddle behind her with one smooth movement, grabbing the reins from her hands and pressing the horse’s sides with his knees. “Here we go!”

000ooo000

The autumn wind of the Shire touched his hair and made it tickle his nose, and he giggled while brushing a golden leaf from his sleeve. The scent of burning wood nearby reminded him of the comforts of home, and suddenly he felt his stomach rumble.  
“I could taste something sweet…”   
He said quietly to the person beside him, who carded his fingers through the curly hair and wiped his bangs away from his brow, only to place a delicate kiss on his lips. Delicate at first, deepening at the same rate his heart beat faster, eager hands searching for eager bodies, the chill of the autumn breeze forgoten as their blood boiled in their veins.  
“I could have you here…”  
“I could have you anywhere…”  
Ferumbras rolled over the body of his lover and fixed his dark brown eyes on the gorgeous lips that quivered at him.  
“Are you sure…”  
“I… I am…”  
“Some more secluded place…? You… you deserve more comfort than a grassy hill…”  
The one under his heated body grabbed his hip and brought Ferumbras closer to the skin that ached to be touched.  
“My comfort is in your touch, in your care, in your love… But a more secluded place can be safer, in any case.”  
Ferumbras looked around and noticed the rooftop of a nearby barn.  
“It is the closer place. I can imagine hay piles as a more comfortable than here, besides… the straw colour mixed to your sandy hair…” A side smile graced his lips. “I’ll remember you everytime I see this colour…”  
Dipping his fingers in the dark brown curly hair of Ferumbras, the one beside him brouhgt his lips closer to another desperate kiss.  
“Let’s hurry, I’ll explode if we can’t be together righ now…”  
They ran to the barn and easily made to the hay storage place, jumping into it and rolling around in their joy of being together far of any inquiring looks. Their heat intensified to a level it could not be controlled, and soon their clothes were off, as well as any possible shame of being with each other.  
“I love you.”  
A tongue traced a jaw line and then the remaning of the body down to under the navel, and then up again, just provoking, teasing, making the heat to build up.   
“I love you too.”  
There was no choice for them than to make love, there and then, despite anything, any social constraints, any thought about anything that wasn’t their feelings for each other.  
They were still panting, gasping for air, unable to move more than their eyes to send each other loving looks when their world turned upside down.  
“Otho Sackville-Baggins and Ferumbras Took, what are you doing in my barn?”

000ooo00

Ferumbras woke up sweating, scared of a nightmare he didn’t quite remember, knowing it was part of a past that would not come back ever again. The caring hand of a dwarf pushed his bangs away from his brow and hushed him to sleep again.


	69. Chapter 70 – Leaving the Safety of Stone Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, I’m really sorry for the delay, but I got sick and was unable to think right enough to write. Hope you enjoy it, and I’d love to see a review or two!

‘Upset’ was an understatement. ‘Worried’ had been his state since he left his Little Sister and younger children in the morning, albeit under the care of some of his best and most trustworthy wards. ‘Enraged’ was a word that described best Kíli’s reaction to the news the otherworldly woman brought in the early evening, when she interrupted their long and boring, even if important, meeting on future plans to override the orcs in Gundabad.  
It had been an uproar when Gwendolin and Ulfir stormed into the Conference Chamber, their admittance having been granted only by the man’s status as personal ward to both Bard and Kíli, and the gold sigil of the House of Durin that the blonde woman presented when needed. Gwendolin summarized as much as she could without leaving any meaningful information out, not stoping to detail things that would only waste time. And to waste time Kíli was unwilling.  
“I beg you all your leave, as I hope you understand my haste. If you don’t understand, sorry, I’m going now anyway.”  
With this Kíli made for the stairs that led down of the Chamber where he would skip two steps at once, if not more, followed by all his retinue, when Brad grabbed his shoulder with an iron grip.  
“You know me long enough to know what I understand and what I don’t, and I hope you know by now what kind of man I am and how I’d answer to this call.”  
The dwarf’s eyes were distraught as he answered.  
“I’m calling none to anything, I just must go get my bairns.”  
Bain was beside his father, a steady hand on Kíli’s other shoulder.  
“Your beloved ones, my beloved ones. Whomever messes with Erebor messes with Dale. ”  
“No doubt you know these forests better than us, but a bunch of rangers might be of use, I presume.” Added Elessar  
“And a couple of idle elves, by the way.” Offered Elladan, to Haldir’s disgust at the adjective, making him to append his own offering.  
“And the busy ones too, of course.”  
Kíli was amazed. He knew he could count on the closer ones, like Bard and Bain, if he asked, but the others… One thing was to summon a war against a comon enemy of their races and kingdoms, other was to receive free willing help for a personal cause.  
“I don’t have words to thank you enough.”  
A hazelnut thrown at his head claimed his attention to the bear of a man with his black squirrel on his shoulder.  
“Don’t worry, giving us an excuse to chase goblins is thanks enough!”  
The pair of golden eyed North-easterlingas was beside Beorn.  
“If Shardik goes chase goblins, the Sun-Cheng go too.”

000ooo000

Ulfir ran down the staircase with Gwendolin and Chao’s dog at his heels.  
“You take Silver and follow the others, I’ll get ready and find you at the bridge.”  
He cried over his shoulder and the blonde shouted back in answer, to be heard over the trampling of everybody else who was at the meeting and now followed Kíli to rescue his children, babysitter and guest.  
“With you coughing your lungs out? No way, you go home and take a rest.”  
“Don’t you think I can have any kind of rest while those children are out there!”  
“Ulfir, you’ll get a pneumonia in this wheater, don’t you understand?”  
She stopped at the side of the door that led outside, hands in her hips and a frown in her brow. The ward stopped too, towering over her and lifting her chin with a finger while the others passed them by.  
“What you don’t understand is that those are not any children for me, and it has nothing to do with them being royalty or not. Their mother buys fruit from Mom’s stall since I was a baby, she visited often when needing a break from the stubbornness of the Council of Lords and this kind of thing; Knee and my sister learned to crawl together, Lyn took her first steps in my Mom’s kitchen trying to grab a peach from the counter, they… they are like little siblings to me, if I can be bold enough to forget they are Durin’s heirs and I am a simple ward of Dale. There is no way I can stay idle while they are out there in the hands of the goblins.”  
Gwendolin saw the earnestness in his grey eyes and knew he would not change his mind. It was not only to be used to the stubbornness of the dwarves and to be as stubborn as one of them, it was to be moved by his prowess, it was to have his heart in the right place.  
“Ok.” She took his hand from under her chin and held it in hers, pursing her lips. “But now you go and put on a warm coat, else you don’t think I’ll nurse you back to health if you get a pneumonia, no way!”  
“Yes, my captain!” Ulfir half smiled and rufled her bangs from her brow. “Hey, what is this here?”  
Gwendolin moved his hand away from her brow, annoyed, and shove him to the door.  
“Nothing, just a scar, ignore it, now go get your coat while I get Silver, I’ll find you at the bridge.” Ulfir smiled amused at her and made for the the door, while the blonde followed him stil grumbling. “Go, go, go, none will wait for us if we don’t hurry!”  
From the door to the stabbles they ran, as the guards had taken Silver there while they went to invade the war-moot, Ulfir keeping her hand in his with the excuse that he was guiding her. It was lucky for Gwendolin that he did so, so he was able to refrain her from running into the stabbles while the first horses were galloping out.  
“Castan!” Ulfir directed Gwendolin to a man in his forties who was handling packs to the riders who went forth. “Two parcels for this one here, please, I’m taking Apple at home and following on.”  
The stableman eyes the blonde woman from head to toe.  
“Nice booty, Ulfir, but ain’t ya in sick leave?”  
“Not sick enough to let this one here close to your filthy paws, old rascal!” Ulfir granted a playful shove on Castan’s shoulder and placed a kiss on Gwendolin’s hand, embarrassing her. “I’ll find you at the bridge.”  
The woman just nodded, confused, as the tall man hurried away, and grabbed the pair of light supply packs the stableman handled her. She could see a waterskin of about half a gallon fastened at the outside, and her curiosity was stronger than her haste as she unfastened the strings that bind the pack closed. Putting a hand inside it she found a fabric bag containing assorted dried fruits, and another one with chips of smoke-dried sausage. In the bottom of the bundle a light coverlet was folded.  
“Sorry, this is…?”  
She asked the stableman, feeling a little awkward.  
“Supplies enough to survive a couple of days in the wild, if ye must. Water may be enough for a day or two, only, but ye can always replenish.”  
“Oh. Thank you!” Gwendolin looked around the wide stable, full of people hurring to get out of it. “Where do I find…”  
He question was cut short by a well known voice, one to whom Gwendolin had been taught to obbey without thinking.  
“Hurry on.”  
She grabbed the reins that Aredhel threw at her and used the advantage of the higher plataform she stood upon to help her to mount on Silver, both supply packs on one shoulder while she steadied herself and found how to fasten them on the conchos where the saddlebags should be. Silver followed Aredhel’s horse - or Aredhel herself, it was hard to tell – with no complaint, surer of where it was being guided to than Gwendolin was.  
“Are we going to the same patch of forest we came through when coming to Erebor?”   
The blonde asked her preceptor, but was answered by Legolas in her stead.  
“We rescuers will take way south. We came almost straight east from my father’s halls, Nutty Creek springs from some hills southwards.”  
“Ok.”  
“And you shall take the same road you trod to come hither.” Pointed out Aredhel.  
“What?”  
“You go back to the dwarf kingdom. That forest is no place for someone as unexperienced as you, moreover at night.”  
“But, but…”  
“No ‘buts’, human, your adventure at the mock-wedding was enough for someone of your stature.”  
“Hey!” Gwendolin felt offended. “I helped a lot that day!”  
“A planned battle, under plain day light, and we knew what to expect. Besides, you were staff in the healing tent, not warring in the battlefield.”  
Gwendolin felt defeated. Aredhel had a point here. Not that it was effective in changing her mind, of course.  
“But… but Ferumbras is my friend and I’ve spent so much time with the kids and Leri in the royal dwellings, I cannot simply turn my back to them when they are in danger!”  
Aredhel rolled her eyes, about to losing her temper – not that making her to lose her temper was something really hard to accomplish.  
“Gwendolin Browne, for the last time, you attract disaster and an operation like this cannot afford your kind of bad luck to interfere!”  
“The name is Gondolin daughter of Brannen, of the House of Túrion, and the only disaster in my life was to find you!”  
With a pressure of her heels Gwendolin signalled Silver to canter forward, leaving a fuming Aredhel behind. The elf was so indignant by the young woman’s contempt that the glint of welling tears in the human’s eyes went unseen by her.  
“That disrespectful brat…”  
“She’s only a child of Man, milady. Don’t take it so hard.”  
“You… you are right, Tauriel.” The silver haired elf lifted her chin in the general direction Gwendolin took, but her eyes held the dark shadow of grief. “Frail beings who come and go with a season. Why should I care?”

000ooo000

“We’re almost at the top of the second hill, this is when the cart will be slower than ever.” Rori pryed from under the tarpaulin that used to cover the merchant’s goods and right now covered a significant part of the Young Company. “That’s when we should jump out of here, right?”  
“Wait!” Knee was quick into moving beside Rori to spy for himself out of the cart. “We must be sure other carts or people are not too close, we must get out sneakily.”  
“The faster we go, the sneakier we are!”  
With this whisper the shy son of Ori jumped out of the cart dragging a scooter with him, not waiting for any leave from whomever’s part; even if his courage was born from naivety rathen than from stoutness, courage it was nonetheless, and the other youngsters followed his example, quickly jumping out of the slow moving cart, Frérin carrying the other scooter with the little tow-cart and Firc handling down Kim to Knee before jumping out with Hazel in her arms. The huge rabbit had her muzzle smudgy from pumpkin garbage, seemingly pleased with herself. As soon as the yougsters put their feet on the cobblestone road, the cart began it’s descend to the next declension, and they ran to the hedge beside the road, mingling into it like shadows in the early night.  
They waited to breath again only when the pumpkin cart was a hundred yards away, and when feeling safe their actions were quick and sinchronized as if previously rehearsed, as it used to be with the children of Mahal when put to work together. It was in their nature, the timing to hit a piece of metal in the same cadence, the balance and rhythm to make things – tools, stones, china, anything – to flow from hand to hand effortlessly and with precision, as if to let a gem fall into the nothingnes of a deep mineshaft were more than an accident, but a disrespect to their Maker.  
It took them only moments to have Kim in the cart with Hazel on her lap, whispering incomprehensible sounds into the rabbit’s ears while Knee took his place at the scooter that would drag them; obviously a scooter designed to ride on stone floors would have trouble riding on the irregular ground of the forest, but they would find it out soon enough. The second scooter was left to Rori, the younger of them after Kim, albeit his protests that it should be given to Firc, but the daughter of Bofur was almost as stubborn as Lyn.  
“Borin’s warhammer is heavier than Thrain’s axe, you take the scooter.”  
Rolling his eyes, Rori took the scooter, but also her waterskin, with mumbles of ‘I’d die in shame otherwise’ or the like. Frerin made sure the twin falchions of his deceased uncle Fíli were easy to be drawn and helped to pull the heavier scooter as he used to do at home, when needed with his younger siblings.  
Obviously, the small wheels got stuck in the soil within a few yards of the hedge, makng Knee to curse inwardly for his lack of forethought. Rori yanked the scoter forward as much as he was able, but the ground was too soft, even so close to winter, and small debris and remains of old leaves clogged the ball bearings to the point it was clear it would not work in the wild.  
“Rori, leave the scooter.” Knee said at the same time he himself stepped out of the simple vehicle. “Fré, carry Hazel. Kim, you come with me.”  
The little dwelfing obbeyed her older brother without a blink, and Frérin rolled his eyes in an ‘I told you’ way that was hard to ignore. Mahal be thanked, Dibur and Difur were not present.  
“Where is the place the golbins came, Kim? How do we get there?”  
The little girl was about to answer when a well known voice was heard.  
“It doesn’t matter, all of you’ll go back to Erebor.”


	70. Chapter 71 - Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers, I’m really sorry for the long delay to post this chapter, but work really got me head over heels this time – to the point that my husband was doing the laundry and my niece was taking care of the meals. On the other hand, I finished translating Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart to Portuguese (translating is easier than creating when your head is full of numbers and spreadsheets) and from now on all my writing time will be devoted to Send me an Owl. That is, whenever I find some free time…  
> Thank you so much for your patience and support, every review brightens my day and gives me strength to write even when my body begs for rest.

Lyn woke up to Leri gently wiping her hair from her swollen face. She felt like having slept nothing, which was almost true, but was immediately alert, keen half-elven senses aware of the potential danger that surrounded them. That was no dwarven hall, meticulously hewn into the living stone; it was a mere hole in a hillside, dirty and ugly, as ugly and dirty were their captors.  
“Shh, little raven, just stay quiet…”  
She nodded so her babysitter could know it was understood. Their hobbit friend was already awake, sitting as upright as his tied up body allowed him, listening to the sounds outside. Her brother thrashed in his sleep, hard to be woken up as always.  
“What’s happening?”  
“They’re arguing about something, but we can’t find out what. Better to be awake if they come to bother us.”  
The dwelf shook her head lightly in agreement, and proceeded to shake her blond brother out of his sleep, whispering to his ear.  
“Fee… Fee, wake up, Fee…”  
“Hmm… Kee…”  
“Kim is fine, she escaped with Cousin Iris. Now wake up, sleepyhead!”  
“No, Kee!”  
Fíli tried to push her away with his bound hands, and woke up startled, but his glazed eyes showed he was still in the grasp of some nightmare, which was easily explainable by the misadventure they were living. Panting, his eyes gazelled from side to side while his hands tried to find weapons that where not on his person, until realization downed on him of where he was and in which condition.  
“Adad? Uncle?”  
Leri caressed Fíli’s cheek with the knuckles of his tied hand, lending the boy the comfort he could.  
“Shh, little lion, they’ll come, they must be searching for us right now…”  
The dwelfling heaved a sigh and curled himself against his sister again.   
“It sounds like they finished setting some trap.” Whispered Lyn.  
“All I hope is their traps are as inconspicuous as their talk is silent.” The hobbit winked as her in the darkness.  
It took only some minutes for an ugly head to peep into the small cave and for ugly hands to throw a water skin in their general direction.  
“Boss said to replenish and off we go. Any complainer will taste some whipping to get into the mood.”  
Each one gulped down some stale water before passing the skin over, but it wasn’t enough to begin with, and soon the four of them were still thirsty and also with a bad taste in their mouths.  
“Ouch, Lyn, if you love me, give me a minty!”  
“I’d like to have one myself, if we had any.”  
“But we have!”  
“What?”  
“There’s a cut in the inside of my sleeve, I hid my minty there when Mister Leri said he would ‘inspect’ us;”  
The girl squeezed her fingers inside the tiny hole in her brother’s sleeve. What she touched wasn’t exactly wholesome.  
“Irk, Fíli, how long have you been storing candy in there?”  
“Ah, erm…”  
“Now, laddie, this explains some evidence of sugar in your bedroom even if your mom forbade it, huh?”  
“Mister Leri!”  
“Won’t argue about it right now, but my inspections before putting you to sleep will be reinforced.”  
Ferumbras smiled to himself, listening to the babysitter to bicker with the youngling. It was not much, and could not even come to happen if the worst came to be, but the mention of what Leri would do when they were back at the mountain was a statement that things would be all right, that there would be a way out of all that mess, that the dwelflings would once again be comforted to sleep in their warm and cosy beds instead of sleeping on the cold and dirty ground.  
Jojar plus two other goblins entered the small cave shouting orders and shoving the prisoners outside. The hobbit noticed the temperature had dropped as the night wore on, and his sequeled leg cramped painfully.  
“It’s time for a stroll, noble guests!”

000ooo000

Brannen shifted position on the cot, tired of looking at the wall as the hours wore on. Óin had prescribed him to lie on his most injured side to ease the breathing as soon as he was able to bear it, but he had enough of it for the time being, and the right chest drain was annoying him.   
His recently found daughter hadn’t come to visit him the whole day, but she had told him there would be a meeting to attend and it would probably be late afternoon before its end. But it was already night and Gondolin didn’t show, and the grey-haired dúnedain was getting tired, and worried, besides bored. The tall ward who shared the infirmary room had been discharged some days ago, the only cheerful company since the battle besides his newly found little girl. It didn’t matter she was already a beautiful grown up woman, all he could see when looking at her bright eyes and golden hair was the tiny baby who cooed at him to grab his hair with her chubby hands. But she would come back to him, eventually, after the end of the meeting, to straighten his already straight bed sheets, to fluff his already fluffed pillows and to stuff him with more food than his stomach could handle. All years of yearning for his little girl had been so easily erased by her constant attention since the truth surfaced…  
He fidgeted the hem of the blanket, realizing he was missing someone he got to know barely ten days prior, but no, it actually was someone he knew from birth and who had been stolen from him. There was no denying he knew that golden fluffy hair and that crystal laughter, which sounded so alike Marcia’s…  
“She will be back soon.” Brannen stated to the walls, reassuring himself.  
“So do I hope, man of the West.”  
Brannen tilted his head to the Sun-Cheng shaman’s voice, who kept his meditating statue stance beside his comatose son’s cot.  
“Pardon?”  
“I said I hope she’ll be back soon.”  
“Oh.” He should have remembered Gondolin was helping to tend the Shaman’s apprentice, with that big northern hound following her up and down. There was some taboo that didn’t allow any other person to tend the boy, but Brannen didn’t bother to understand what it was. His lacerated lungs and broken ribs were problem enough in his life to care about a foreign people’s culture and beliefs. “It is getting late, but she will come back, don’t worry.”  
“How am I not to worry?” Wang wiped the raven black bangs from Chao’s forehead and lowered his voice to a whisper. “It might be too late.”  
Brannen got worried. He didn’t imagine the lad’s situation was so critical that he couldn’t miss one day’s care of his daughter. But then wasn’t it an extreme? That he couldn’t be handled by regular healers?  
“Infection?”  
“I’d rather it were.” The shaman heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, fighting for words to explain. “It’s more an… unwillingness to wake up. A… kind of… rebellion.”  
“Rebellion?” The word caught the dúnedain’s attention, but he hadn’t a bad opinion on refractoriness. “What kind of rebellion?”  
“A rebellion against me.” He lowered his voice as if speaking to himself. “Of course I know every teenager must have his own maturing process, and that it includes trying to break some rules, but was I really that wrong in what I did? I was only trying to protect a life, the life of my most beloved child!”  
Having had no opportunity to watch his own girl go through adolescence, Brannen couldn’t relate directly with the struggles of being parent to a rebel brat, but the word rebellion brought him memories of Marcia and the few years he spend with her. It could not be that evil, and maybe it was just a misunderstanding.  
“Maybe your child didn’t understand it this way.”  
“What do you mean?”  
The dúnedain tried to explain.  
“Maybe your child’s rebellion is not against you, but against a bigger thing. Did you ever consider this?”  
The shaman frowned.  
“No. I ask again, what do you mean?”  
With a smile for having caught the stranger’s attention, Brannen began.  
“I’ll tell you a story, then you say me what means a rebellion. It starts saying, ‘a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..”

000ooo000

“Oh-oh…”  
“I told them to stay back even before I got your sword, Lily.”  
“The problem is not you, Bilbo, it’s these brats who think they can save the day just with goodwill and… Orcrist?!”  
Knee tried to use his father’s puppy eyes trick, but it was Frérin who mastered it better, and all he managed was an insolent rise of brows.  
“Sharper than any goodwill, and will glow when orcs or goblins are close.”  
“Argh! Doesn’t matter, back to the Mountain, all of you. Now!”  
“Hey, this is not fair!” Complained Frérin, endorsed by Knee’s vigorous nodding. “You should stay in the infirmary too, Tickly, not just me and Itchy!”  
“This is not about staying in the Healing House, it’s about staying safe, for Mahal’s sake!”  
“Lee and Fee not safe, Kee safes them.”  
Lily facepalmed with a grunt, while Iris held tighter the littlest brat of the bunch.  
“Kim, I worked so hard to get you back to Erebor, only for you to run away with your brothers? This is not fair!”  
The dwelfling squirmed out of her grip.  
“Ugly gob’ins not fair, make boo-boo, Kee go kick gob’ins where it hurts!”  
Bilbo turned to Rori and Firc, respectively propped on Borin’s warhammer and Thráin I’s axe.  
“And you? What’s you part in this?”  
The younglings exchanged glances and turned back to the hobbit, resolute.  
“Knee needs our help.”  
“He leads, we follow.”  
“I can’t believe you are so irresponsible as to call these children to follow you into danger!” Bilbo chided the older dwelf.  
“He didn’t!” Rori defended his playmate. “He told us to stay!”  
“We’re following him out of our own stubbornness.” Clarified Firc.  
“What do we do now?” Asked Iris, carding Kim’s hair. “If we go back to the Mountain, they won’t let us out again because Lily is supposed to be in the Healing House and we were forbidden from getting after the goblins; and if we let them be, they’ll most probably follow us into the forest or get themselves in trouble somehow.”  
Knee lifted his chin in defiance, a hand on the pommel of Orcrist, squaring his shoulders and making clear with his body language that he would not back down. Frérin was beside him, still as a rock, arms crossed, and if it were a bow instead of his deceased uncle’s twin falchions in his scabbard, one could imagine a very young Kíli ready to outdare the world. Firc and Rori shuffled until their elbows touched Knee’s side, offering silent support as much as seeking for guidance. Kim seemed oblivious, scratching Hazel behind the ears.  
“We’re wasting time.”  
The lad’s voice rumbled as if he were far older than his years. Bilbo tried to ignore a shiver and made up his mind, shaking his head.  
“Your mom will pull my heart out with a spoon for this.”  
“I am the one to blame. As cousin Iris said, we would follow you into the forest anyway.”  
“The Valar save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!”


	71. The Hunt Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I lay to rest  
> and my blood’s slowing down  
> I feel the heat fading  
> and I wipe the sweat from my brows.  
> It’s finally done.  
> I made my way home.
> 
> Struggling for minutes,  
> a million hours or so.  
> I ran seven miles and still  
> I have thousands to go.  
> Same story again:  
> I stand alone.
> 
> And for every question  
> an answer is found.  
> Thousands of voices are  
> screaming new questions out loud.  
> But I’ll make a stand.  
> I’m not gonna drown.
> 
> Here I stand alone.  
> With an innermost freedom  
> like rivers coming home.  
> (Here) I stand alone.  
> Finding trust and forgiveness  
> in someone I know.  
> And this goes to all of my friends:  
> I am with you and with me - until the end.
> 
> For every crossing  
> where two roads diverged.  
> I fell to one false decision.  
> But still you find me on this earth.  
> No matter how far.  
> I made my way home.
> 
> Is it you who’s diverging?  
> The very next day  
> all the roads seem to vanish.  
> You’re still here, so I have to say.  
> Same story again:  
> You stand alone 
> 
> (Van Canto – I stand alone)

The shadow of a grey horse mingled with the shadows of the walls that surrounded the city of Dale, and a large snow hound waited patiently with its head on its front paws, turning its violet eyes here and there as if asking why it wasn’t invited to play. The hunting party had passed the bridge a little time ago, half a dozen dwarves, ten elves, a pair of North-easterlingas, assorted men of Dale and Lake Town, including their King and Master, and a bunch of rangers of the North. Not to mention a large black bear with an unlikely squirrel on his hunch.  
Some of the later still came through the gate, as most of them were scattered in the city, minding their own business while their leaders attended the meeting. Gwendolin even tried to catch one’s attention to ask about which direction they’d take, but none of them took notice of the young woman beside the gate. Seemingly, Aredhel’s decision that she should stay put had been spread and none dared to defy the grumpy elf. So, the blonde pouted and paced beside the horse, hoping against hope that at least Ulfir would not let her down – that was, if his mom didn’t make him stay home because of his cold. She herself thought it better for him to stay in bed rest, but, as none was willing to have her around in the goblin hunt, he was her only hope to move her feet away from the gates of Dale.  
The horse neighed.  
“You’re bored too, ain’t you?”  
Gwendolin fidgeted with the reins, all excitement she felt when leaving the stables gone to ashes. Another late ranger passed by, dark mantle concealing his face, iron horseshoes sparkling on the cobblestone. The same doorward that was on duty when she came approached her.  
“Milady, isn’t it getting late?” The woman looked at him with forlorn eyes. “It doesn’t matter what Alfrid said, you’re welcome to Dale any day of the week. I can suggest you to take a chamber at Mirna’s tavern for the night, it is right down the main path and…”  
Resigned to her bad luck – didn’t Aredhel always say she attracted disaster? – the woman traipsed beside Silver, Liao Wang at her heels, wishing she were less useless than she felt, but the quaint feeling of belonging she felt at the banquet after the Battle of the Wheat Fields was over, none needed her anymore. In a more predictable battle, she was of use, as staff; but now, when a real issue surfaced, she was easily left behind.  
“Don’t know why I care, I’ve never been the stuff of warrior…”  
Liao Wang yipped at Silver’s knees, trying to get her attention, but Gwendolin was oblivious to anything than her own self pity. Ferumbras was out there, the Lord knew in what situation, after all the ordeal he’d been through; and so where two of the most adorable kids she knew – of course they could be brats when they wanted, but that was part of being a child, like when they questioned her why Snow-White chose a human prince instead of one of the seven dwarves. To visit Mirna’s tavern would be a wonderful experience - another day. Today, it would only mean she was useless as she used to feel all her life long – an orphan never adopted, a girl never asked for a dance, a designer never chosen for a big project. And the day she had been chosen, the airplane had to crash and she had to be chased by a troll!  
A strong hand grabbed the reins of Silver out of her hands, making her panic again, but at least this time Liao Wang didn’t jump on the presumed attacker, instead hopping up and down to get her assaulter's attention. The hound was awarded a small piece of dried meat.  
“Wrong way, lady!”  
Ulfir turned her horse to the gate again, and another horse flanked her other side.  
“What the…”  
“Lady Lara didn’t find fit Ulfir to get out without someone to watch him; I’m not insane enough to counter my mother-in-law!”  
“Who…?”  
Her mind swirled a dark skinned man all but threw her upon the horse, Liao Wang sprinting at their heels with a twist in its muzzle that could almost be mistaken for a grin.  
“This is Kharim, my brother-in-law; we’ll have time for longer introductions in due time.”  
“Nice to meet you!”  
“Now, off we go!”

000ooo000

It was late in the night, he was sure, probably one or two hours after midnight. Fíli always knew when it was late or early, in or outside the Mountain. It never occurred to him to ask if everyone felt time like him, he just knew, and always felt at easy with this knowledge.  
What he didn’t feel at easy was the stench of the goblin who carried him, thrown upon its dirty shoulders, a mix of sweat, bodily odor, stale urine, dried blood, halitosis and other things that he didn’t want to think about. He was a child, he knew he was a child, and that there where things that children didn’t have to know yet, things meant for adults only, and that in certain circumstances could be nice for adults, but that should never reach children, never get close to children.  
He smelt it once, when he got lost from his family during the New Year’s festival last year, and ended up in a corner of Erebor that he wasn’t even sure if his parents knew existed. One beautiful lady from that corner of the realm had taken him back to the main market halls and set his hand on the hands of one of Uncle Dwalin’s subjects, with promises that the youngling had been treated right and hopes that she and her friends would not be harassed for his own little escapade. The persons who lived in that corner of the realm weren’t to blame for his lack of sense of direction. He was glad that lady guided him back to what he knew as Erebor.  
But he never forgot the smell.  
It didn’t matter that her hands felt sticky on his own, a sweat Fíli just knew was not due to her over-embroidered gown and heavily jeweled hair; that unknown lady was leading him back to the safeness of his known world, and he was grateful to her, despite...  
Despite the smell he smelt again, in his uncomfortable position on that goblin shoulder. A goblin that had no link to that redhead lady, so caring and respectful. But somehow they smelt the same, the same sickly sweet smell that was not a bloom, a perfume, but a scent, an odor that invaded his nose and declared he was as animal as a horse or a boar. And Fíli didn’t like it, the sweet, sickening stench of bodily fluids that had nothing to do with fighting or sparring. It was… another thing.  
“Fee...?”  
His sister whispered to him, trying to conceal her mouth so their captors wouldn’t notice she was talking amidst the rumble of their running. Once the lad looked at her, she switched to Iglishmêk, as much as possible with tied hands.  
_“They’re dividing in two or three directions. I think it is to lead Adad astray so he doesn’t find us.”_  
Only then did he notice that some of the goblins were taking a path northwards while his carrier and the ones who flanked his sister turned slightly southwards. He couldn’t see what was being done to their baby-sitter nor to their hobbit friend, as they were behind him, which meant, ahead in the line, as he was being carried on one of his captors’ shoulder and facing backwards.  
_“What of mister Leri and Ferumbras?”_ He signaled with limited movements.  
_“Ahead of you, I think they’ll keep us together.”_  
Even thinking about the ones who had been kidnapped with him, Fíli didn’t know much what to think or to do. His sister had left marks on the ground with the heels of her boots, when they had the chance, but what could they do now?  
_“I wish I had something to leave behind like in Hansel and Gretel story Miss Gwendolin told us.”_  
Lyn twisted her lips, thinking, but found no solution.  
_“They left bread crumbs, but it didn’t work. It must be something no bird or beast eats.”_  
Hungry as Fíli was, the dwelfling couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t be fancied as a feast by any dweller of the forest. Except apples, of course.  
The hunger, the thought of apples, the stench of dirty goblin, the jolting of his carrier – everything – just became too much for his overstressed moment. Like hours before, his stomach rebelled against fate and heaved what little was inside it, mostly bile, stale water and traces of mint candy.  
Oddly enough, his sister smiled.  
_“You’re brilliant!”_

000ooo000

The green wizard finally reached the top of the lookout, sweating and cursing in half a dozen languages. Despite his taste for hiking now and then, Wolfram still was a laboratory rat, not a fieldworker, and his frame was more fit for researching microscope snapshots than to carry on experiments in the wild. That was what his knees were shouting at him for a mile or so already.  
“Why couldn’t there be a bit more light?”  
He asked himself, looking at the crescent moon. At first he considered to use the green light of the gem in his staff, but it took him too much concentration to make it shine bright enough to make a difference, and he had to choose between having light and paying attention on the path – or lack of path, more exactly.  
But now he was atop the lookout, certainly far lower than the heights of the Lonely Mountain, to which he sent a look of awe, for it was an exquisite sight to behold, a massive giant clad in snow, crowned with a wisp of cloud blown from its icy top. Slowly, struggling to make his own eyes avert Erebor and search for what he had to find, Wolfram turned to the forest at his feet, a young forest grown with patience and persistence on the charred land once known as the Desolation of Smaug.  
The dark green, mingled with generous amounts of brown and gold and autumn red, of the forest leaves crept up to his soul, flooding him with memories of thirst and hunger, and of quenching irrigation and nourishing manure gently mixed to the earth around his roots, tree by tree, bush by bush, countless times until all the vicinity was plenty of young saplings of assorted species natural to those lands, which brought back insects and birds and other small animals, and then larger ones, until the whole ecosystem was healed and sound again. This he felt in his own skin, the memory of being wrinkled and dry as a mummy, and then being rehydrated and cared for and cherished for the being what he was – a manifestation of life in a place Life herself had forsaken long ago, under the flames of a dragon.  
Leaning havily on his staff, feeling a weight beyond his years, the scientist made peace with the wizard in him, grateful for the feeling of being complete when he never before felt something was missing. It was not the accer tree that grew under his sight the first day of his training, nor the sureness that his sister needed him when she was crashed with forbidden memories. No objective evidence brought him the feeling he felt now, breathing in the cold night air of early winter – the feeling that here, beyond the circles of his own well known world, unlike most of his life, he belonged. There, alone, beholding that forest, under the crescent moon of Middle-earth, he knew he was _home_ , and that he was part of that _home_ , and that home was part _him_.  
And being home, he could do anything.  
Wolfram had seen the arch signaled in chalk on the stone map of the Council chamber. He knew where to search. And he knew his nephew and niece. No nasty goblin would conceal Lyn and Fíli from him, not in this life, not in this world.  
He focused on sensing the frequency of the forest itself, considering the range explainable by different species of greenery and fauna. After conceding he was a kind of antenna, or rather a scanner, he could chose between to methodically search for an explanation for this fact or to achieve what was expected from him, and he knew that achievement was more pressing, and that diverging from that purpose could put lives in danger.  
Innocent lives.  
Lives of his niece and nephew, and of friends.  
And even the lives of those who went in search of them with arms in their hands, for even an experienced warrior could fall due a single arrow, as happened to Fíli in the Battle of Five Armies, or under too much enemies, like Thorin Oakenshield.  
But not if he could prevent it, if he could find them, and act accordingly.  
Rising his staff, the biologist forced himself to forget the lack of scientific explanation and relied on evidence, on his empiric knowledge that it would work, that he was indeed able to identify patterns of energy and to communicate his findings to his peers.  
Wolfram scanned. Trees, trees, bushes, trees, sleeping birds, sleeping squirrels, trees, hunting foxes, pine marten fleeing from grey owl, sleeping trees, hedgehog turning in sleep, chipmunk scratching flea from fur, revolved earth, falling leaves, tumbled stones, angry soil, frightened trees, and…  
A smile won his face.  
_“Gotcha!”_


	72. Hunters and Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fly from the haze  
> Jump on the prey  
> Scaring away  
> Capture's in vain  
> Daring the hills  
> Mountains ahead  
> Roaming and stare  
> Lonely again  
> Perish the heat  
> Succumbing breath  
> Last but not least  
> Die or slay  
> Hide on the field  
> Perceiving eyes  
> Hunting the prey  
> In paradise(…)  
> I'm waiting, just waiting  
> Answers to return  
> Don't let your dreams deny you  
> When it's time to learn  
> I'm standing, I'm waiting  
> Time has no reverse  
> Can someone see them falling?  
> Bones will feed the dirt  
> Hunters and Prey  
> You got to run away!  
> (Angra – Hunters and Prey)

“The Valar save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!”

These words had barely left Bilbo’s lips when a bustle in the hedges nearby caught their attention, the younger ones expecting to be caught the second time and the older ones not knowing what to expect. Thankfully, it was whom they expected, and Iris breathed, relieved.

“Paladin! What took you so long?”

“Hah! Heard this pun before!” Clarifying the hobbit-lass answer, the newcomer eased a backpack from his shoulder and opened it. “No problem in getting the bow and quiver Beorn provided me, but to stea… I mean, to provide a dwarf-sized bow and arrows for your sister was not that easy. Saradoc donnybrooked enough for me to follow after they had gone, but I can’t walk as fast as the lift you took.”

Lily strapped the quiver on her back with a wicked smile on her face, and felt the strength of the bow without letting it fire empty, so not to damage it.

“Nice! Off we go!”

“Wait, wait, waaait!” The Took member of the party held up a hand. “What about these fauntlings?”

Knee and Frérin sent him an indignant glare, and Kim gave the ultimate answer.

“Gonna kick _gob’ins_ where it hurts.”

Paladin pondered her words without much questioning.

“Hmm. Sounds like a good plan.”

 

000ooo000

 

The whoosh of the wind in Kíli’s ears did little to silence the turmoil in his mind. Instead, it sounded like the flush of blood that was all he could hear when his brother died in front of him and he could do _nothing_. Worse than nothing, he lowered his guard and became an easy target to the orcs around.

It almost cost his life.

Actually, it _did_ cost his life, but a blood price had been paid for it.

Miracles didn’t happen twice, people used to say, so he had better to haste. He failed one Fíli, twenty-eight years ago, and swore his beard that he wouldn’t fail another one.

xxx---xxx

Riding beside his king, cousin, pupil and brother-in-law, Dwalin couldn’t care less for most of those titles but the last one, which made Kíli father to his nephews and nieces, heirs neither him nor Balin expected anymore at the beginning of their quest for Erebor, following Thorin Oakenshield into a dragon’s lair.

Now he followed Thorin’s nephew to rescue his own nephew and niece, children he treasure as if they were his own. Of course, if they _were_ his own they’d have more training and be more able to fend for themselves, but his sister would probably incinerate his beard if she knew even the little bit he already taught them.

“ _Children should be children while they can_ ”, Ellen used to say, cofusticate the tender feelings of elves. In his not-so-humble opinion, children should stay alive, period.

xxx---xxx

Bain noticed his father ease the gallop of his horse as they approached the borders of the young forest, waiting for the dwarf king to take the lead. Not that hey had any qualms amongst them on who would take lead in the land of whom, they had worked together since the first burials and each one knew his place in the gear, but to make clear to all who followed them that they held mutual respect on each other’s authority.

The forest belonged to the dwarves, no matter how strange it sounded, and under its leaves it was Kíli Elvenblood the Lord. Maybe the explanation resided in that name.

xxx---xxx

Aragorn felt strange under the eaves of the young forest. Not only because it was young while he was used to the ancient trees of Fornost, but because it was too ordered to be natural. He consciously _knew_ it was not a natural forest, rather one that had been planted by people, but still, the patterns the trees assumed made the forest _feel_ otherworldly.

Then it struck him.

As otherworldly as the elf who was consort queen over that land.

That explained a lot.

But, still, the regular distance in which the trees grew, the geometry that perspired in what should be wild, made the Dúnedain consider that, if it were Aulë to invent trees, they’s have cube roots.

 

000ooo000

 

Said elf made her horse canter as fast as possible amidst the trees, followed close by some of her best friends in that world and some of the freakiest warriors in that kingdom.

The sight of a troubled patch of land near a rivlet was the watchword for a risen hand to stop them all. That was the place where it happened, and the air reeked of goblin blood and guts, but her keen eyes sought for braver beings, and soon the broken corpses of the royal wards were found.

“Varda above…” (1)

Ellen muttered as she gently touched Zindrin’s eyelids, closing his caramel eyes one last time. His falchions were gone, as was his armour, and even his boots. Even so, being aware of the eating habits of the goblins, she thanked mentally that his body had been left whole. Pain and death were enough, no need to crown it with defiling.

Quick arrangements were made to protect the four dwarven corpses from some possible night scavenger, amongst vows to Mahal that they’d be granted proper burials in due time. A larke spiked steel mesh had been brought with that purpose, as those four deaths were known beforehand.

What went unsaid was the hope that no more shrouds would be needed that night.

The lieutenant of the Silent Army came from upriver and gestured to the elf in Iglishmêk.

“ _The scum clearly took a trail south-westward, uphill. They’re all on foot, we found no warg paw print nor wagon mark on the path. Shall we follow it_?”

Excelent fighters, but not strategists.

“No, this is what they want us to do. We cross Nutty Creek and round them from the North, they expect us to take a direct route, I’d bet.”

“ _Aye._ ” He signalled, nodding in understanding of what went unsaid. She’d bet, if she had a beard, poor beardless woman…

Bofur kept up with the last few minutes of talk and moved into action, mounting his own steed and gesturing to all around to do the same. He was more used to guide people in a circular dance, but Bifur’s chosen ones wouldn’t deny the authority of any member of the High Council. Not even if they knew how their meetings used to be held.

 

000ooo000

 

“Do you remember the lay of this land, Milady?”

Tauriel insisted in addressing the aunt of his fiancé properly, even if the older elf used to be grumpy and sometimes even bearish. Actually, _sometimes_ she was _not_ bearish, but the captain of the guard would have rather Aredhel’s sincere bluntness that her king’s finesse.

“Not been here since the Silmarili shone.” The silver haired elf condescended to look around in earnest. “Think this ridge was not this height by then.”

“Oh.” Tauriel suddenly felt very young, despite her six-hundred-twenty-nine years. “Sorry, I thought you lived in Erin Lasgalen when Legolas was a child, and this is not so long ago.” (2)

“I…” She glanced around, carefully. “Used to hang around by then, Lely was, as he still is, for the time being, my only heir… But I didn’t use to travel more than from Imladris to my sister’s home, and back. On her behalf, and Lely’s. Me and his father… never got well along.”

Tauriel nodded, feeling they had more in common than it would seem at first sight.

“I can relate.”

The older elf tilted her head, curious.

“Still, you found your way to high ranks in Thranduil’s guard. _And_ won Lely’s heart.”

The younger elf felt uncomfortable.

“As for my work, I just worked hard for it, Elbereth knows how hard.” Her eyes sought Legolas without thinking, considering it was only natural that the prince of Mirkwood would ride along the princes of Imladris. “As for Legolas, it was not something that happened on purpose. We… contended a lot, he is older and was obviously more experienced than me, but I always tried to beat him, to show I had prowess despite being just a silvan elf, despite my grandsires not having chosen to go West…”

Her voice turned into a whisper heard only by the experienced spear-wielder, who leaned on her horse to whisper back.

“Your grandsires were wise. They didn’t see the Trees, but they never longed for that sight. And if you want to prove your prowess, prove it here, where the Shadows lie and you are needed, not in the Blessed Realm, where the lack of chalenge makes people indolent and futile.”

“I thought being free of care allowed them time to evolve in nobler matters, like arts and philosophy.”

“Humpf! Allows them too much time to compete on frivolities, and frivolous people are like naïve children, craving for attention. _Look atame, look at me_!” Mimicked the elf.

Tauriel supressed a chuckle.

“Can’t imagine those wise ones whinning for attention.”

“If they were more wise and less naïve, the Feanorian wars would never have happened.”

The party reached the top of a ridge and Kíli raised his hand to call a halt. The leaders of each small group assembled with him to decide on the next steps.

“Bard, Bain, you are as used to these lands as my own people. Each one of us will lead a group of ten. I want at lest one elf and one ranger in each group.”

Beorn’s voice rumbled from close by.

“I’ll rather roam alone. Don’t know if it would be wise for any of you to be near me if I get enraged.” He scratched his beard. “Or, rather, _when_ I get enraged.”

Kíli pndered the skin-changer’s words with a nod.

“Right. Beorn walks alone.”

The Sun-Cheng leader stepped forward.

“We’ll follow him.”

“Don’t know if it would be healthy…”

“On our own risk, of course.”

Sham, the Master Fisher of their tribe, stepped forward with a hooked spear in hand and a maniac grin on his face, supporting his leader.

“Shardik, Shardik!”

Kíli rolled his eyes and weaved a hand to the weird trio. Quartet, if he counted Beorn’s black squirrel.

“So be it. Each member of a group at sight from the other, each group at a bowshot from the other and we’ll cover a line of kind of tree to four miles. These ranges are full of small caves and crevices in the rock where the goblins can hide; we are to search thoroughly, our goal is to rescue the abducted ones, _alive_. If we knock down, disjoint or kill any goblin in the process it is just a casualty, even if a welcome one, but don’t forget: what we aim is to get those four back, alive and sound!”

 

000ooo000

 

“The dwarf scum won’t take the bait.”

“We have elf-puppies enough for them to take it.”

“Are they stupid enough to risk formed wariors for the sake of brats?”

“It is said they are all thumbs  for those little things.”

“Didn’t they learn the weak are to be consumed by the strong so the people gets stronger?”

“They’re not clever enough. That’s why our people strives while theirs dwindle.”

Jojar lowered his head at Burzg wisdom. That’s why Burzg was a general and he was not. But Jojar had his own ideas, and Burzg was only a repository of the ideas of others. Maybe, one day…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1 – Varda is the Vali who created the stars, most beloved by the elves; she is called also Elbereth, Gilthoniel, Elentári and Tintalë.)  
> (2 - Erin Lasgalen would be the Sindarin name of the Green Forest, as Mirkwood was known before.)


	73. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, I’m sorry for the delay, but work is stealing most of my time (thanks Erú for it!) and writing is slower than I intended. Anyway, enjoy some more goblin hunting, and don’t forget to leave a word or two to say what you liked (or not).

Gimli felt insecure. He was kind of used to work with his own people, a young noble dwarf of the line of Durin prepared all his life long to follow his father’s steps, and with an innocent notion that it would be several years ahead yet and that nothing really meaningful would be required of him until he was _prepared_. None told him that no one was ever prepared until the time of need came, and that the time of need could come as thief in the night and turn his whole life upside down, not asking for leave.

Now he was in the lead of a party that included their elven neighbour’s prince and several people who were not dwarf, races of which he just held the rational knowledge that they all were allies against a mutual dark enemy, but that weren’t _dwarf_ , and he didn’t know what to do with this fact.

“I can smell something strange downhill. Any chance we find caves nearby?”

Gimli wondered how the elf was able to whisper from several yards away and still be heard. But his foreign fellow in the searching party was not the focus, but to find his little cousins, baby-sitter and hobbit friend.

“No!” He answered as loud as he dared, wanting to be heard but to keep the party as secret as it may. “We planted firewood in this region, it won’t grow fine if the ground is too rocky.”

“Hmpf.”

The elf’s unmouthed answer was solely to show he knew more about how trees grew than any young dwarf, and it just helped to put Gimli to his edges.

“Or don’t you know the kind of trees you’re walking in between?”

It was Legolas’ turn to answer crossly.

“I could chart a matrix of the uses of the species of trees we have at an one mile radious from here – and also bushes and weeds, by the way – but all I wanted was to acknowledge your so-called leadership in this troop of the rescue party. If this is too much for you, I’ll…”

What Legolas would do none eve knew, because the earth beneath his feet gave in and the elf skated down the hillside, holding his bow up to spare it from any shock. Several feet bellow he came to a halt, leaves and mud clogging his boots and eyes wide with disgust. His silence was enough to imply something was wrong.

“Legolas! What’s…”

His upheld hand begged for silence, while his eyes surveyed the surroundings.

“Our target held a feast here, it seems.” The elf stepped back slowly, his gaze never leaving the bloody scene he beheld. “Your forest is a couple of deer shorter, I’m sorry to say.”

And he was. His nourishment needs didn’t give up meat, but the little of it his people ate was taken from nature with the consciousness that non sentient beings were not destitute of pain and fear and, in a way, dignity. The remains he saw on the messed soil were not just of dead deer, but of _tortured_ deer. The heads were left whole, haggard eyes on faces thorn with panic, still attached to the remains of the carcasses, each leg tied to a different tree, visibly stretched to their deaths or close to it. The irregular cuts in the pelt were of fangs and claws, not of knives. The poor beasts had been eaten alive.

“Any clue on the kidnapped ones?”

Halbarad, Estel’s second-in-command, stretched a hand to help Legolas up the last yards, his heavy boots less prone to slide down than the elf’s.

“No. But the signs are that the goblins headed north-east from here. The kill is fresh, not a day ago.”

Finally Gimli felt more at ease with what was being talked about.

“So they headed from here to where they captured my cousins, for what Gwendolin told us.” Elf and ranger nodded in acquiescence. “Why didn’t they come back this way after they got them?”

“It is like they _want_ to confront us. What makes them so confident?”

 

xxx---xx

 

Beorn faced the Sun-Cheng leader for what he hoped would be the last time.

“I’m saying this to you in Westron, _you should not follow me_!”

“Shardik is a champion of the Lights of The North. We’ll follow.”

Answered Tsui, with Sham nodding at his side as if he understood what was being said.

“Arrgh! I’m not this Shardik of yours, never heard of him! Leave me alone!”  
            “We cannot. We’re sworn to serve Shardik as we serve the Lights of the North.”

Twitching his lips to a disgusting grimace, the bear of a man shook his head in disbelief.

“This is madness! When I loose control – listen, _when_ , not _if_ – you’ll be in danger! I’ll most probably kill anything that moves that is in reach, do you understand?”

“Yes. But we also heard that Shardik took part in the battle to protect this kingdom from twisted souls after its Retake, and that no person of the Free Peoples was hurt by you.”

Beorn wasn’t so sure, he kind of remembered one or two dwarves that flew some yards away as he ran in the general direction of the main struggle. Or it could be four or nine, to be more precise.

“You really believe I won’t hurt you?”

“Yes!” Asserted Tsui.

“Shardik!” Professed Sham.

He looked away, in disbelief and started to make his way downhill.

“You’re too innocent.”

The two Sun-Cheng followed him.

“Yes. That’s why the Lights of the North chose our people to be their champions.”

            “I’d have a word or two to say to these Lights of the North if I ever see them.”

 

xxx---xxx

 

Bard panted to win a hill and fought to make a bit of dizziness to get away from his head. In no moment one of Elrond’s twins was at his side.

“Need some help, King Bard?”

The human king recalled which one it was.

“No, Elladan, thank you. It’s just a matter of too much paperwork and too little time to be outdoors. None should be doomed to this fate.”

The elf agreed with a nod, yet didn’t lower the hand that supported the man’s shoulder.

“The years of the Second Born are short, albeit full of glory. Don’t shorten yours, King Bard, your name is already bejeweled in glory.”

“Nonsense!” The hard-headed man rolled his eyes. “All the _glory_ I’m looking for right now is to have my neighbour’s bairns back home.”

Elladan’s grey eyes twinkled under the starlight, in the eerie way of his kind.

“Often is glory found when one seeks to do what’s right. The opposite, not quite so often.”

Rolling his eyes once more, Bard straightened his back and headed to the last of the hilltop, muttering.

“Elves and their riddles…”

 

xxx---xxx

 

The silver haired elf advanced about half a mile on the remaining of her group and stood on a boulder that topped a glade, ebony spear in hand and will of steel in her eyes. Aredhel held deep hate for all of Morgoth’s breed, but goblins she hated more, since the War of Wrath. Orcs were evil, utterly evil, but in the lack of a leadership their evilness was no more than the same as ever. Goblins, on the other hand, had an especially sadistic nature, rejoycing even more in inflicting pain, despair, and madness. For if orcs excelled in killing and causing phisical pain, goblins delighted in driving their victims insane both of pain and psychological torture. She knew it only too well.

“Down here, Purple Target!”

The elf looked down at Dwalin, standing some trees away with a grumpy face. It almost made her smile, how he was alike her. Almost.

With a gracious somersault, using her spear as a pole to increase her vaulting, Aredhel landed a few feet from the dwarf warlord, with a curtsey.

“As if a sweaty dwarf were less of a target than me.”

“I’m not wearing purple.”

“Goblins have bad sight and good nose, despite their own smell. I can be as invisible in purple as you’d be a couple of hours after a good bath.” Dwalin humpfed. “I mean, a _good_ bath.”

A ward of Dale weaved them from the left and Dwalin lost the chance to tease Aredhel back. Finding the goblins was more important than to… whatever.

 

xxx---xxx

 

Arwen was studying some greasy marks on a tree trunk, when the cold touch of a blade grazed her ear.

“What's this? An Elf, caught off her guard?”

She flicked the side of the blade and roller her eyes up to him in a ‘ _it’s not time for this_ ’ way.

“We _really_ must stop meeting this way.”

“It depends only of your father.”

“No, it depends on many other things that I won’t enumerate right now.”  
            “Not time to discuss relationship, what have you found?”  
            Thanking Elbereth for Estel coming back to his senses that fast, Arwen poked the goo with a stick.

“No tree oozes this kind of jelly. It’s not natural.”  
            “A pity this ground is too rocky, there’s hardly any mark to be seen in the dark.”

“And we cannot wait for daylight to prospect it further.”

They beckoned Bifur to see what they found, not sure if he would understand what they said, but sure they would not understand whatever _he_ would say back.

Several gestures, hand signals and grunts - to the ears of both elf and dúnedain – made them sure not only that their finding would be taken into account but also that their close encounter would be kept secret. Not that they cared much about it right then, after all they were at work, but to count on the abetment of _anyone_ was precious to them.

 

xxx---xxx

 

Ferumbras looked around when he felt the goblins were slowing their pace. They had had enough of making his leg hurt until they decided need for speed was higher than delight in hurting him. Not that the damage wasn’t already done. His leg cramped as if his heel wanted to meet buttocks for tea, and his toes wished so hard to meet his sole that if his toenails were not kept hobbitishly short they’d have drawn blood hours earlier. Being thrown on a goblin shoulder didn’t better his pain, only made him feel even more useless.

“Mister Leri!” A happy voice whispered close to him. “They didn’t take you away!”  
            Fíli’s happiness was soon taken away by the goblins awareness.

“Not too late to have it done, puppy!”  
            Unable to hold back a gasp, Ferumbras witnessed Leri being thrown to a large goblin, wide eyes searching frantically for the hobbit, pleading for a help he was not able to give. With a wicked grin on his toothy mouth, the goblin set out with some of his companions, dribbling malice.

“Where we planned to, Burzg?”

He asked to the bone-plate goblin.

“No.” The wickedness in his voice was unbearable. “Take him to the Sorcerer”.


	74. The Skirmish Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, you keep my fire alive and I hope you’re enjoying this story as much as I’m enjoying to write it.  
> My working schedule is getting me insane most of the time, and I can say I feel so good when I’m writing as Ellen used to do when camping before she stumbled into Middle-earth.  
> I thank very much to theblackbrumby for the lovely review, she has a little part in this chapter too, it was the best I could with what she gave me and what she doesn’t know yet.  
> As usual, Iglishmêk is is italics. Notice a dwarf can speak both in Westron and in Iglishmêk in the same phrase.  
> Read, enjoy, scold me and review!

Fíli cried loud as the goblin carried Leri away to a new and unknown kind of threat.

“Bras!” The babysitter called, frantic, pleading eyes steered to the hobbit, who called back his name, stumbling forward as if able to do anything with his arms tied up as a cocoon.

“You cannot! You cannot!” Lyn tried to convince their captors like when they wanted to execute Leri first time. “My brother will shout and shout and…”

“Indeed?”

Indeed Fíli was shouting from the moment the goblins put their hands on his babysitter, but this time they were not so easily fooled and his shrill cry was cut short with a blow on his head that had him unconscious immediately.

“Fíli!”

The remaining captives shouted as one.

“Any more applicants to our caring attention?”

A hobbit, a dwarf and a dwelf shut their mouths in unison.

“Good.” Burzg turned to the laughing goblins. “On with the plan!”

 

000ooo000

 

The small group os unauthorized rescuers followed the running dwelfling who followed the running rabbit. They had walked most of the time, but as they got closer to the rivlet where the attack happened, Hazel got more and more willing to ‘ _go find Fíli_ ’.

“Kim, tell Hazel to stop, we need a small break.”

Iris was panting and stopped to massage her legs, doubly tired from having trailed the same path thrice by now.

“Here, my precious, have some water.”

Her husband offered her a waterskin, and she drank some down feeling slightly uncomfortable with the chosen pet name. No time to worry about it right then, any strange feeling would have to wait until the prisoners were free, and probably beyond.

“Where is the glade you picnicked, Iris?”

Asked Lily, running her fingers nervously on the string of her bow. She felt at ease inside the mountain, and became used to the wilderness during the quest for Erebor, but to know they would face goblins gave her goosebumps.

“It must be up here to the right, I remember the lay of the land, even if it’s dark now.”

“Aye, mister Leri uses to take us to the flat stone beside Nutty Creek to play, it is a well known outing place.”

“Any possible hiding places around here, Knee, that you remember of?”

The lad lowered his gaze, sad for not having more information to offer.

“Nothing that would accommodate more than a couple of dwarflings playing hide-and-seek.”

“Knee is right, if you want to hide more people you’d have to go to the ridges, and they are not quite this way nor really close by.”

The adults exchanged looks at Frérin’s note.

“Maybe we should give it a try.”

Suggested Paladin, to what Lily asked the older prince.

“Do you know in which direction we should go?”

Knee blushed in the dark. Why was there always something to remind people that the same ability he had in finding his paths inside Erebor he lacked completely when outside?

“Erm, I…”

Frérin tried not very hard to suppress a chuckle and both Firc and Rori pointed to opposite directions.

“ _Hazy_ knows!” All eyes turned to the little lass, who turned her big emerald eyes to them in answer. “ _Kee telled Hazy seek Fee, Hazy_ knows!”

Iris knelt in front of the dwelfling, worried that her childish beliefs would waste precious time needed to find the prisoners.

“Kim, it is not a simple hide-an-seek game, we really musty find your sister and your brother and misters Ferumbras and Leri. If we take too long, it can be too late, do you understand?”

The lass nodded, serious.

Bilbo was doubtful.

“As a mater of fact, I don’t know if we should trust the guidance of a toddler and of a rabbit, if you take my meaning…”

“But you should.” Bilbo turned his eyes to the sapphire ones who challenged him, with a strange feeling that it was not the first time in his life that this happened. “I would not take my sister out of the safety of Erebor and into certain danger if I didn’t need her to find my siblings. The only reason Kim is here and not safe at home is because she controls Hazel, and Hazel is able to find them. We played ‘ _seek-and-destroy_ ’ times enough for to me to be sure the rabbit is able to find my siblings, or anyone of the Young Company, miles away.”

“This is true!” Protested Firc, fingering the hilts of Fíli son of Dís’ falchions. “Once I hid in the market, under the balcony of a fish dealer, and Hazel found me all the same!”

“And once I hid in a charcoal pile and Hazel found me. Later Uncle Dori found me too and scrubbed me with fennel soap for two hours. Then Hazel found me again.”

Rori offered his testimony, to what Frérin nodded to emphasize it, but not adding his own experience with the rabbit’s ability. Lily breathed deep, trying to make up her mind, feeling guilty by the prospect of having those little ones close to goblins when she herself wanted to be further from them as possible.

“There is no choice than to go into the goblins’ hideout, wherever it is. It is plunging into danger, but we have no other way.”

Paladin tapped her shoulder, friendly.

“The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm, we use to say at home, Lady Lily. We will find them and bring them home, be sure.”

The deep sea eyes of the dwarrowdam took a distant look, sure of what had to be done.

“I am. But at which price, I wonder?”

“Are we rested enough?” Questioned Knee, taking the lead. “Kim, can you ask Hazel again to find them for us?”

His littlest sister nodded and leaned down to whisper in the rabbit’s ear.

“ _Hazy_ , find _Fee_. You must find _Fee_!”

The brown giant bunny froze for a second or two, then her whiskers trembled nervously and she hopped forwad straight forward from where they where, nor to the right where the rivulet was. The rescue party exchanged glances and Bilbo asked Knee once more before starting to follow them.

“Are you sure?”

The young prince turned somber eyes to him, as if offended with the doubt.

“My sister is.”

 

000ooo000

 

“Are you sure it is the best path to reach the cave-riddled hillside?”

Haldir turned his nose a little higher and his friend Elenarion asked himself if he was looking for a _talan_ in a dwarven land. Nori was keen in answering.

“We’re not looking for best paths, but for paths that can lead us to the ones we’re looking for, I suppose.”

Haldir held his nose so high Elenarion almost hoped he would trip on something for it, but the older and more experienced elf would not fall so easily, it seemed. A Dúnedain called to their right.

“I think we have a boar path here, sir!”

Paths made by the constant trampling of wild mammals used to mean paths to water and shelter. Whatever the golbins were up to, they’d need both, unless they had a Master able to make them work to death with nothing but their evilness to nourish them, which was unlikely.

“You don’t know the lay of these stones, master elf, let me lend you a hand.”

Haldir felt compensated for the way Nori rebuked him just moments before and accepted the hand which helped him to land graciously on the lower ground, a second hand firming his waist just to be sure. The man of Dale was right, the boar path was clear before his eyes and he forgot to thank the dwarf’s help for the time being. More people of his own group were coming closer, as well as some of Lord Elrohir’s group too. Seemingly, more than one path led that way, and more than one group was being drawn to that patch of forest.

“It doesn’t sound sane, it looks more like a….”

The harsh voice of Glóin was easy to recognize, even amongst several dwarves in the groups who were gathering there, or, more likely, herded there.

“It’s a trap! _Du bekar_! _Baruk khazad_!” (1)

The groups led by Bain, Nori and Glóin were already in the rock bay when goblins started to pour out of the boulders with which they mingled as if made of the same matter. The illusion of rocks dissolved into the reality of fighting creatures who attacked dwarves, men and elves alike, with a blood lust that surpassed any racial barrier. The others followed swiftly when they heard Glóin’s shout, but the distance from each other that they assumed to cover a larger area slowed down the rendez-vous.

Gimli got almost berserk when the voice of his father called to arms, the urgency in the call rising his adrenaline to a level Bruce Banner would find very greening. His axe made a straight path where there was none, and only Legolas’ sharp senses prevented the dwarf from jumping into the fray, grabbing his collar in the last moment.

“Wait!”

“What? Let me go, you son of a pixie!”

“It’s a trap, didn’t you hear your father shout it loud enough to wake the dead?”

“Of course it’s a trap and I’m going to…”

 _“Baruk khazad_!” Another voice called from their right. “ _Dê_!” (2)

The new voice was not as harsh as Glóin’s, but not less urging, and more authoritative. Even the ones who had already stepped into the stone bay turned their heads back to that call for a moment, so sure of the right to command it had. But the moment had to be short, because the jagged scimitars of the goblins took no rest, and drove the rescuers to the middle of the now unnatural glade.

“Legolas! _Morgul_!” (3)

The distressed voice of Tauriel reached the blond elf and the other elves in the trap-glade, and even if not making sense to the Dale men and the dwarves, the Dúnedain knew enough of Sindarin to heed her allert and try to move back to where they came.

To the other side, Arwen and Aragorn followed a frenzied Bifur as fast as they could, and Bard cursed his lack of breath while running after Elladan, sensing the name the auburn haired elf shouted was not a welcomed one. Some of his wards kept at close range to him, more willing to protect their king than to run into someone else’s fray, but Bain was in the glade too, so there would be no escaping. Like in the orc raids in recent years, when dwarf scouts took the worst so Dale farmers and Lake-Town fishers could work and live in relative peace, now it was time for the sons of Man to show their value in defense of their neighbours.

Their noblest neighbour was aiming a deadly arrow to a mass of evil besmirched with blotches of nauseous colours, as if malice could ooze from festering pustules. The memory of the Goblin King came to Kíli’s mind, and his brief stay in Goblin Town was recalled with a taste of bile in his throath.

“You have come too far, whomever and whatever you are.” The young dwarf king knew he had to control his words, as his goal was to have his children and friends back.

“Don’t you know who I am, petty king under potty mountain?”

The voice of the thing didn’t help Kíli to find out to which gender the goblin pertained, nor the halitosis to make any step closer to better his aim.

“Never had the displeasure.”

He needed to be fast, the ones in the stone glade were having little success into getting out of it, the lesser goblins having no qualms on being hurt or even killed to keep them there.

“I am the voice of the ones left orphaned by you and your _elf puppy_! I am the voice and the hands of vengeance against dwarf oppression! I am…”

“Just free the prisoners and be done with it.”

“What?” The feigned surprise in the goblins voice was nauseous. “Are you so willing to give me what I want?”

Kíli took one step forward, arrow trained to the huge goblin’s skull. To aim to its heart could be more effective, but right between the eyes used to show more menacing.

“There’s nothing I have that you may want. Now, give me what you took and be off my kingdom.”

“Oh, but don’t you have, really?” The sense of bad humour was the same, whatever relationship that thing had with the deceased goblin King. A saddlebag was thrown to Kíli’s feet, only to be ripped open by a pair of smaller goblins to show its contents. “All I see here are things the right size and shape for an _elf puppy_. Elves and elf puppies put a little expansion of my kingdom in jeopardy not long ago, even killing some of my poor loyal workers when they just opened a window for us to get some fresh air! That was unforgivable, as was my brother’s murder!”

Now the voice of the _thing_ became harsher and at least Kíli knew what relationship there was between the _thing_ and the Goblin King. A brother, or weird sister, and seemingly a successor. And it explained what happened to Bilbo and his relatives’ luggage after the avalanche.

“Let’s not talk about unforgivable things, else we’ll have to have a very long talk. Now, free the prisoners and you may go away unharmed.”

“What? What do my old ears hear? A petty dwarf king under a potty mountain threatening my rightful malevolence? Hah!”

Kíli wished he had Balin at his side, the perfect diplomat; or his mom, who was able to put anyone under her heels with no effort at all; or Fíli, who always knew the right thing to say – except when he said exactly the wrongest thing to say - but the best thing would be if he had his uncle there, surely Thorin would…

Thorin would facepalm and call them idiots.

“Release the prisoners.”

“Deliver The Bane.”

“The Bane is not here.” Answered Kíli, sure his Little Sister was safe under the Mountain. “Release the prisoners.”

“Get The Bane and deliver her!” The huge goblin demanded, voice even harsher.

“Why would I?”

The goblin sorcerer smiled wickedly.

“Because I have things that are precious to you, don’t I?” Kíli’s steel eyes where answer enough. How pathetic where dwarves and other scum, with their care for the weak and offspring! “Deliver The Bane and my malevolence may find room to return your little cubs.”

“Why should I believe?”

“What choice do you have?”

The release of the arrow was so swift that no movement could be seen on Kíli’s body, arms and even face, just the subtle spreading of his phalanx stating something was different from a moment before.

It was a risk, not knowing what orders the monster might have left to his minions in case of decease.

But no, Kìli had no reason to believe, none in forever had a reason to trust a goblin, and it was not to change now. Not now.

“Fool!”

In the milliseconds the arrow took to reach the sorcerer a cloud of greenish stench surrounded it and deflected the weapon as a wall of glass. A hollow laughter followed the fail.

“You sealed the fate of your warriors now, dwarf _nothing_.” A gesture to the glade tried to claim Kíli’s attention. “In my enormous kindliness I was inclined to let you live to mourn your losses and beat your heads on the stone in regret for your cowardice, but now, as soon as the weight of your army trapped there reaches a certain amount, our machinery will give in and swallow them, at the same time a rock shower will sweep any trace of the little puppies you’re looking for!”

Kíli swallowed hard, but the whole meaning of what was spoken was not ignored.

“Aye, our whole army is about to get trapped in your… trap. I bet my beard you expect at least, what, two hundred of us?”

“Two hundred? Hah!” The goblin laughed to some of his servants, who laughed along out of habit. “As if my malevolence were as stupid as to believe the king under the potty mountain would lead less that half of his army to rescue his puppies! Nay!” He took a step forward, something that resembled a crutch made of bones helping the creature to steady itself. “You can bring a thousand of your petty axe wielders to fight my noble servants, and it will resist; but the thousand-and-one will bear the weight to collapse the machinery we built under this terrain and bury all of you! All, do you hear?”

“I _do_.”

Now Kíli understood why the message Gandalf and his own wife sent mentioned to be swift and not to gather too much reinforcements; they should have had more data than him and deduced a massive reaction would lead to disaster. But, in the small numbers they left Dale, and no doubt the same measure would have been taken in Erebor, they’d never reach the critical mass the goblin sorcerer expected to make his evil machines work. They only had to maintain the façade of believing and to keep themselves alive until the wizards did something or the sun rose. Or both. Wasn’t that so in the trollshaw, and when they escaped Goblin Town? Night would not last forever. And to agree with a goblin was no warranty that his youngsters would be safe. And now ke _knew_ they were downhill.

“And now, will you deliver to justice that little insect who so boisterously and unjustifiably killed my brother…” The thing stooped forward with its hideous halitosis. “…or will you have war?”

The calming hand of an auburn haired she-elf was on Kíli’s left shoulder, where he felt the notch of an arrow ready to flow to the bow, between a pair of long gracious fingers; the reassuring stone-hard bicpes of his brother-in-law and preceptor brushed his right one; Bard’s worked breathing finally reached his ears, and Halbarad of the Dúnedain managed to drag both Legolas and Gimli from the border of the rocky glade to where the parley was taking place. More where gathering.

“I will have justice.” The nearby goblins cheered up, misunderstanding his answer, so he made it clear. “And justice means _not_ to kidnap innocent ones to use them as ransom! You came to _my_ lands, you took ones from _mine_! Deliver _you_ them, and _now_!”

A wicked laughter started as a rumble and grew to a hideous roar, as each goblin followed the tones of the sorcerer, never clear if it was out of willingness or not. The result was horrible, and it was enough.

“As you wish, petty king!”

A squirming bundle was thrown at Kíli’s feet, and only a closer inspection revealed the content of the burlap sac. It was Elladan who quickly drew a dagger and released the scared face of a dwarf from the bag, blood dripping into his beard from a thorn lip. Despite Gimli’s roar of anger, Kíli and Dwalin managed to keep their conversation with Leri solely in Iglishmêk, save one or other word to disguise their communication to the goblins.

“ _They’re alive_ _for now,_ my king!”

“You’re safe now. _Any trace of help_?”

“ _No, but we left warnings, there’re traps_. We’ll resist.”

The remaining members of the search party arrived, adding up to close to a hundred against countless golbins. Said goblins started to pour down from the trees as well as from the boulders, and soon Kíli and his friends were surrounded.

“And now, what will you do, dwarf?”

Sputtered the sorcerer, enjoying each moment of his observable triumph.

The young dwarf king could only remember the last time he had been in front of such a huge goblin, and wish Gandalf were at his side like then. Hoping against hope that the wizard would fnd them in time like in that occasion, Kíli sought strength in the same words the grey pilgrim uttered then.

“Now we fight!” Turning his voice to his loyal companions, he shouted once more. “Take your arms and fight!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – Du bekar!: To arms! Baruk Khazad!: Axes of the dwarves!  
> 2 – Dê!: To me!  
> 3 – Morgul: Sorcery, evil knowledge


	75. If I Die in Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers, I must once again ask for your forgiveness for the long delay and the shortness of the chapter, but I spent two weeks making my daughter’s birthday party gown – she asked to be Merida!  
> The next chapter involves some scenes that happen at the same time, so I want to write them all and see the best sequence, so please don’t curse me if it takes a while to post again, even if I promise to work on it as hard as I can – I know I can’t always keep my promises, my work schedule is getting me crazy lately.  
> Read, enjoy, review!

**If I die in Battle,  
** **find dark blood upon my steel.  
** **If I die in Battle,  
** **tell them I stood, and never kneeled.  
** **If I die in Battle,  
**my soul will be saved and gone.****

_**If I Die in Battle – Van Canto**_

  


Lyn swallowed her snifling to avoid any goblin action against them, having her boldness shut up by the taking away of her baby sitter and the blow on her brother’s head. Fíli had not stirred since the nasty blow, but still breathed, even if it was shallow, and all the girl wanted was to hold her brother and comfort him.  
Ferumbras was trembling at her side, wrathful about having taken Leri away so unexpectedly, angry at himself for being unable to stop them, worried to death on unconscious Fíli, whom they could not even get close to check on him. This would not end this way, not if his Took surname was to mean something at all. His family was used to be called fools, but it was said fools’ chieftain who owned the title of Thain, and this had to mean something. It had not been by sheer accident that his ancestor Bandobras finished Golfimbul the orc, nor that the hobbits led by him in the Battle of the Greenfields made the orcs fled. And the Thainship was more than a tradition to Ferumbras: it ran in his veins.  
“We will get out of this, Lyn. I promise.”  
The hobbit’s whisper was barely enough for the girl to hear it, but her elven half helped, even if not to buster her hopes.  
“But how, mi’ter Ferumbras?” In her distress she sliped to her younger sister’s speech, a comfort for her own soul. “They’re too many, and too evil, and, and…”  
Silent tears welled up in her eyes and found their way down her cheeks, tracing white lines down her grimy face. The knots of the rope that tied her hands did little to cleanse it, being more efective in smearing the dirt everywhere.  
“Hush, hush, little lady…” Ferumbras recalled the way Leri used to calm Lyn and Kim when needed, after a scratch in the knee or an irrelevant disapointment. Not that being kidnapped was irrelevant or that her face being introduced to a tree trunk was a walk in the park, but that was all he was able to say right then. “We will find a way…”  
“Shut up, puppies, before you face the same fate of your fellow dwarf!”  
The bat-nose goblin kicked Ferumbras’ weak leg only to see him fall down, being rewarded with hideous laughter of his hideous coleagues. Lyn knelt down to help the hobbit up the best she could with tied up hands, then fell down again for no apparent reason, coming up with a miserable face and contrite eyes.  
“Fun enough; now for the choky, no time to waste.”

000ooo000

His dwarven arrow flew swiftly in the direction of the sorcerer, soon followed by several elvish ones, one of them Tauriel’s. Tauriel was at his side, and the young king of the line of Durin thought that he wouldn’t have minded if she were something more than the fiancé of the prince of the nearby kingdom, had things gone differently decades ago. She was fiercy, proud, loyal to her convictions, and would never leave a friend in the lurch, nor even a stranger who shared said convictions on freedom and repudiation of the ways of the Darkness. Yes, Tauriel could have been someone closer to his heart, if he hadn’t met Ellen before. If he died in that battle, Tauriel would be someone he would miss in the Halls of Waiting, along with Legolas, who was shooting from a bit further.  
Legolas. So different from his father, despite phisical appearance, that sometimes he wondered if he was adopted. A bit stupid sometimes, unable to see the obvious, but good-hearted and generous beyond measure. What Thranduil lavished in cleverness and lacked in sincerity, his son was unsparing in sense of justice, and willing to step back when acknowledging his own mistakes. That was someone to call a friend, and Kíli would miss him too, if that were to be the last day they had together in Middle-earth.  
But no more than he would miss his family and friends if it were to happen that it was his time to go but not theirs, or the contrary, even with the promise of reunion in the Halls of Waiting. His mother, for example: Dís would be out of herself if he died in battle and she had to bury yet another person of her family. She would certainly be so mad at him that if he were alive she would kill him for daring to die before her. As if they were waiting in line for a specialty by Bombur and he dared to jump the queue. Undoubtedly, Dwalin would help her, in his multiple stati of brother-in-law, cousin and preceptor.  
Dwalin, who at his side delivered blow after blow of his inseparable axes, as his warhammer had been left home – what cause had he to bring his weapon of choice for war when they just went to a meeting in Dale? The same axes he used to duel against Ellen the first day they met, granting her and her nieces the chance to follow them to Erebor.  
Ellen. He could only wonder where she could be right then, no doubt half mad in her rage to find their children. She could be terrific when angered, and he loved it, the way her whole mind turned to her target, forgeting herself on behalf of what had to be done. What would she be doing right now? Did she find their children, their stolen treasures? Was she alive? Were they alive? And, if not, would she be sent to the Halls reserved for his people or to the Elven ones? And their children, being half-blood? Would they meet in any quarter of Mandos? And if not, would he be able to stand it? What does a soul do when death is no more avaiable?  
All these toughts raced through his mind in the fraction of time it took for his arrow to be deflected by the sorcerer’s magic like the one he first shot, things happening in slow motion as they used to when he was fighting. He could see every movement around him, antecipate his opponent’s actions enough to redirect an arrow, but he was not able to keep his mind from thinking about the ones he loved. He hated himself every time it happened, blaming himself on Fíli and Thorin’s deaths, because if he had been more focused he could have…  
None told Kíli that no one could be more focused than him, and that it was his attention to the ones he loved that made him such a deathly weapon both with a bow in his hands or with a sword, and even with his bare hands.  
Because he never fought for himself.  
This was what he learned from his uncle in their everyday life, not only in the training arena, or in the forge. That’s what he learned in hungry winters when he saw Thorin walk out along with Dwalin, Glóin and other skilled hunters to find the meager game that kept him and the settlement in the Blue Mountains alive; that’s what he learned when Thorin left said settlement for months to bring back what coin the human towns were willing ot pay for his smithery; that’s what he learned when his mother led a hunting party during one of these times when Thorin was away and a band of orcs dared to come too close to some human farmers she knew by name.  
What you do, you do for the ones you love.


	76. A Stand to Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, dearest readers, I was not swallowed by a pile of spreadsheets, I just needed time to write and organize next chapters with several scenes happening at the same time. I chose to split it in some short chapters that I’m currently revising, but the start is here and the next ones will be up (relatively) soon.  
> Read, enjoy, review!

**_I've gotta fight today_**  
**_To live another day_**  
**_Speakin' my mind today_**  
**_My voice will be heard today_**  
  
**_I've gotta make a stand_**  
**_But I am just a man_**  
**_I'm not superhuman_**  
**_My voice will be heard today_**  
  
**_I need a hero to save my life_**  
**_I need a hero just in time_**  
**_Save me just in time_**  
**_Save me just in time_**  
  
**_Who's gonna fight for what's right_**  
**_Who's gonna help us survive_**  
**_We're in the fight of our lives_**  
**_And we're not ready to die_**  
  
**_Who's gonna fight for the weak_**  
**_Who's gonna make 'em believe_**  
**_I've got a hero_**  
**_Livin' in me_**  
  
**_I'm gonna fight for what's right_**  
**_Today I'm speaking my mind_**  
**_And if it kills me tonight_**  
**_I will be ready to die_**

**_A hero's not afraid to give his life_ **

**_(Hero - Skillet)_ **

 

 

The soft neigh of a pony called their attention and soon the trio was on the top of the ridge, amidst dozens of horses and a couple of watchers. From there on it would be easier for the main party that came from Dale to scout in search of the kidnaped ones, but on hooves it would unpractical, while leaving the herd alone could be dangerous.

“Hail there!” One of the newcomers announced himself.

“Halt!” One of the watchers called out. “Who’s there?

“Ulfir son of Ulfar, captain of the joint guard of Dale and Erebor.” Said captain dismounted and greeted the watcher warmly. “Are we too late, Vidar?”

“Never too late, it seems, my captain Ulfir.” The black haired man scratched his head a bit uncomfortable. “But shouldn’t you be on sick leave? I heard…”

“Nah, just a cold.” Ulfir dismissed his subaltern’s worry. “Where did the search party head to? How long ago?”

“Not very long.” Vidar’s eyes reckoned Gwendolin’s steed and the huge north hound, in awe. “Swift are the sorrels of Dale, but yours and your Kharim’s must be guided by Oromë himself if they’re able to keep up with Silver.”

Ulfir shook his head, impatient.

“No time for this, Vidar! What was the range? How did they set out?”

The watchman understood the urge and answered promptly this time, signaling with his hands to illustrate what he said and how wide they spread.

“Eight parties of close to ten each spread out as they dared in this dim light, but with elves and dwarves you never know, and would go down into the forest as they could. The foreigners left with that Beorn man, apart from our groups. It was nigh one hour ago.”

Ulfir pondered the information and assessed the landscape, making some quick decisions.

“To look for the Kings to report would be loss of time; if the Queen left directly from Erebor she’ll be coming from north-east; we can go down this way and approach directly from East.”

Kharim nodded in agreement and pointed one hand to the slope they were to take and the other to the blonde woman beside him.

“So far, so good, but will she ride fine down this hillside?”

“Hey, you can talk as if I were present, ok? I’m not a saddlebag!”

Indignant Gwendolin earned a chuckle from Ulfir’s brother-in-law.

“Sure no saddlebag would have so much attention from him, despite what people say…” Ulfir was thankful for the darkness to hide his purple face. “But he knows these hills and you don’t; so it’s only natural that it be _him_ to answer this question, not you. Anyway, we’d always heed your opinion.”

“Oh.” She felt ashamed for having assumed she was being ignored or considered less worthy of taking part in their decisions and took a moment to regain her composure. “Well, I don’t believe it will be worse than Los Peñasquitos (1). I mean, I rode very bad hillsides before, don’t worry.” She turned to the royal ward, thanking in her heart for Sister Amanda’s brother and all the happy riding hours she had. Then something occurred her. “Is it not putting Silver at risk? A broken ankle would be, you know…”

“Hah!” Laughed Ulfir, hopping on his mare’s back. “Silver is able to deal with mountain sides, if you are to worry about a horse please pray for Kharim’s, it’s a poor spoiled beast used to paved roads only.”

“Hey!” The dark skinned man shouted, in mock anger. “Jamal is leader of the King’s herd, he deserves some comfort!”

The three moved away from the horse camp with the men still bickering, and so they’d do for a while yet.

“You being His Highness chief stableman doesn’t turn your horse into the leader of a herd.”

“But being Royal Ward of the dwarves turns you into a stiff-necked mule.”

“Nah, you’re jealous because I work with people and you work with mules.”

“At least my mules are less stubborn.”

“Hey!”

 

000ooo000

 

Bilbo felt the weight of his seventy-eight years as he puffed uphill behind his young wife, who seemed quite at ease with the rabbit chase they were on. It was only expected, she was kind of thirty-four, and her dwarf sister was kind of seventy-four, younger than Kíli was on their previous adventure, and by then he was surely younger than Bilbo himself. And his cousin Paladin was just thirty-six, virtually no years weighing on his bones, and the children…

“Halt!”

The older of said children demanded, and everyone obeyed.

“What’s it, Thorin?”

“Hazel found something, Lily.” Answered the dwelf as he knelt beside the huge rabbit and inspected the ground. Then he turned his eyes up and scanned the surroundings. “Can you hear anything?”

The others listened intently to whatever there was to be heard, and there was nothing.

“There’s a trampled trail here, they’re not worried on being found.”

“What did Hazel find?” Asked Frérin.

“Don’t know, but the trail is here, isn’t it?”  
            “Minty!” Informed Kim.

“What?”

“Minty! _Fee_ always has minty in his pocketses, and Hazel _finded_ minty.” She explained with her hands apart, as if it were something obvious.

Bilbo shivered with a bad memory at the word ‘ _pocketses_ ’ and asked, oblivious to anything related to tracking.

“Do we follow the trail?”

“No, I remember Gandalf mentioning that goblins run fast; if we just follow them they’ll always have hours ahead of us. Besides, we don’t want to reach them overtired, or we won’t be able to do much.”

The hobbit agreed with a nod, thinking that in his current state he would not be able to do much more than to disappear when necessary. Which was part of the plan they didn’t conceive yet, of course.

“So, what do we do, then? At least we know Fíli is with them, even if we can’t be sure on the others.”

“We follow the rabbit, Bilbo.” Lily put a comforting hand on his shoulder, knowing how much the hobbit felt guilty for everything that happened to his cousin thitherto. “She’s been true so far, I’m sure we can trust her to find the shorter way.”

Another hand tapped his other shoulder, a determined look in Paladin’s face.

“We will rescue Uncle Ferumbras, Bilbo, in as many parts as we have to. We will see it done.”

It was not exactly a cheering statement, but it would have to do for now. The Tooks have never been known for their finessewithwords, but their frankness was outstanding.

“Can we go now?” Asked the shy voice of Rori. “Uncle Dori will get mad at me if I’m late for supper.”

Iris rolled her eyes, sure they all were already very late for supper by any standards, but was in no mood to make the dwarfling regret his decision on helping in the rescue party. She was sure Dori would do it in due time, anyway.

“Off we go!”

 

000ooo000

 

The most probable site the goblins could have used to reach the borders of the forest without being noticed was a low ridge that undulated like a lazy snake through it, a long child of Mirkwood hills that tried to reach its fingers to the skirts of the Lonely Mountain but lost its spirit along the way, remaining not much more than a series of broken hills, with is last effort being the Outlook.

Goblins could march fast, even faster than orcs, but were weaker to stand daylight. If they marched solely at night and took cover during the day, it explained why Rärc’s ravens didn’t notice them like they spotted the orcs coming from Gundabad.

If Gandalf could find trace from the path they used to come, he could use it both to find where they were now and to cut their escape route in case they tried to get away with the prisoners.

But there was something that worried him more deeply.

For goblins out of the Misty Mountains to reach that land, they had to get through Mirkwood.

And Thranduil’s people didn’t notice them.

Less wise and more dangerous as they were in comparison to the elves of Imladris, even so they couldn’t be accounted as dumb enough to let goblins trample their land without notice. The must be either hidden paths through the forest or strong spells that hid the creatures.

Or both.

A whoosh of haste mixed with worry passed some distance to his right, and he knew Radagast was on his way to deal with the goblins when they were found. A trail of disturbed animals followed his lead, sniffing, listening, searching for unwanted guests in the young forest.

Gandalf smiled to himself. It was good to work in pairs.

A probing and uncertain wave passed him by, acknowledging him with a flicker and then expanding on. Despite Wolfram’s lack of experience, Gandalf nodded to himself. It was good to work in a trio.

But Middle-earth was a wide world, and they had more to do than to keep watch on their friends, as dear as they were. Actually, to watch over the Free Peoples of Middle-earth had the purpose of guiding and helping them to overcome and destroy the Dark Lord, and to have friends amongst those Peoples was just a relief amidst the Istari’s toils.

All those musings wouldn’t help him to find what he was looking for, though. Cleaning his mind from all the distractions, the Grey Wizard held his staff tightly, and loosened Glamdring in its scabbard. Albeit convinced that it was better to spare a life than to take one, the creatures he was after didn’t have such qualms and if he could make the choice it would be _his_ life to be spared.

 

000ooo000

 

 

The choky was another cave-like site, larger than the previous but more uncomfortable, as if possible. While the first site had a dirt floor with some stones protruding, this one was mostly rubbish and jagged rocks, making it hurtful for Ferumbras to walk on and impossible to sit or rest properly for all of them, especially for unconscious Fíli, who groaned when dropped on the floor too fast for his sister to ease him with her bound hands.

“These bastards will have their due, I swear!”

Cursed the hobbit, frustrated. Lyn used her boot to shove rock splinters from the ground and make some cleaner space for her brother, sometimes kicking a larger stone to a corner, sometimes just sweeping gravel with the side of her shoe. After moving Fíli to the place, she began to tidy more room for her and Ferumbras, silently.

“All that Leri said, it will come true, you know? I’ll summon the whole Shire to make war on the goblins and we’ll have vengeance for their insolence! Ouch!”

His last statement was due to a tapering stone that decided his right foot was the best place to find some rest. Lyn gestured him to sit down on a patch of ground she just cleansed while he rambled on.

“And I’ll make them know what it is to have an itch on the nose and not be able to scratch it! Argh!”

Now Ferumbras was twisting his neck furiously, trying to reach his shoulder with his nose, then giving up and trying to scratch it on the stone wall.

“It was inadmissible for them to hit Fíli that way! He’s only a child and I’m sure there should some kind of war law that prevents people from doing harm to a child and…”

Lyn let herself down on the ground she just cleansed when Ferumbras’ anger gave in just the necessary for him to notice her at all.

“And you have no word on all of this? They hit your brother, they took away your babysitter and you say nothing?”

The dwelf girl put her bound hands to her mouth and spoke for the first time since she fell to the ground for no visible reason, bringing them forth with a dark object between her fingers.

“I found a nail. It must have fallen from their shoes or clothes. It might be useful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1 - Los Peñasquitos is a natural park in San Diego, the name means literally ‘The Little Cliffs’.)


	78. Just a Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who steers the ship through the stormy sea?  
> If hope is lost then so are we  
> While some eyes search for one to guide us  
> Some are staring at me  
> But I'm no hero though I wish I could be  
> For I am just a boy too young to be sailing  
> I am just a boy and my future is unveiling  
> And I'm so frightened of failing  
> (Just a Boy – Kiss)

“ _Hazy finded_!”  
            Kim’s excited whisper was followed by a raised hand of Knee, making everyone to stop in their tracks.

“Are you sure?” Lily asked her little cousin, doubtful.

“ _Hazy finded_ , really really!”

            The remaining of the small party reached the bushes from where a bare hillside could be seen.

            “I can’t see any…”

            “Hush!”

            Knee’s order was obeyed immediately, despite Bilbo’s wondering why the adults – himself included – were so willing to follow the lead of the royal brat. But he seemed to know what he was doing, and he knew the land, and to hush proved to be the best thing to do when the wind changed to their direction, bringing with it the harsh voices of goblins. The young Durin’s heir signalled them to retreat behind the bushes.

            “Now we need a plan.” He stated.

            “Sounds good.” Agreed Paladin.

            “I can get closer to take a look.” Offered Bilbo. “I am officially a burglar, after all.”

            “Don’t do anything stupid!” Commanded his wife, visibly worried. “You are a _retired_ burglar, in any account.”

            Bilbo dismissed Iris’ admonishment, caressing her face with a fingertip,

            “As long as my burglary is of use to help my friends, and my friends’ fauntlings, my full retirement is not allowed.”

            “I know.” Iris lowered her gaze, worried but resolute. “They’re my cousins, don’t forget.”

            Pecking a kiss on her lips, the older hobbit weaved a small goodbye to the group and walked fast downhill, silent feet on the underbrush taking him closer to danger. When no sight could be seen of his friends, a small golden band was retrieved from its customary pocket and slipped on Bilbo’s finger. Now no sight of Bilbo could be seen either.

 

000ooo000

 

            “And now, what do we do?” Asked Lily, guessing Bilbo’s next steps.

            “Now we plan. We can’t storm into a goblin camp without a plan, Bilbo or no Bilbo.” Knee’s intent sapphire eyes allowed no doubt that things would go no other way than his. “In the meanwhile, we eat a little, we’ll need strength to fight or flight, anyway.”

            They sat down and the kids retrieved the cram they stole from the kitchens, sharing it with the adults. Said adults shared what food they brought from Bilbo’s apartment, and it was substantially better tasting than dwarf travelling food. Hazel nibbled at some herbs close by and the group conspired in whispers.

            “We obviously have no numbers for an open attack. We must count on stealth and speed. When Bilbo comes with precise information on where the prisoners are, we divide in rescuers and coverage.”

“Aye, Knee. We’ll probably need some diversion too, they’re surely watched.”

            “Good point, Fré. Anyone engaged in diversion must be a fast runner and excel at baffling.”

            “ _Hazy_ is fast, _Hazy_ helps.”

            “Aye, Kim, but we can’t count solely on a rabbit. Who else?”

            Lily raised a tentative hand.

            “Erm, shouldn’t we take part in this kind of decision? You… I mean, you’re virtually just teenagers, or whatever it is called here, while us…”

            “Aye, Cousin Lily.” Conceded Knee with a hand on his chest and bowing slightly, almost resembling an elf, which he half was. “Please share your contribution.”

            “Oh…”

            Thirty seconds of silence were enough to make some things clear.

            “Thank you very much for your contribution. Anyone else?”

            Paladin ventured a word or two.

            “I don’t know who else is as fast as a rabbit, besides Hazel here.” The young hobbit petted the huge leporidae who decided to lean on his crossed legs. “But I can shoot nicely, if needed.”

            “Yes, you can! Beryl told me what you did at the mock wedding, if half of what she told me is true, you’re amazing!”

            Paladin dismissed Iris’ praise.

            “Nothing a regular archer wouldn’t do. And your sister proved to be more than a regular archer, I dare say.” Lily blushed at Paladin’s compliment. “We can take care of coverage, anyone else here with a ranged weapon?”

            A very shy hand lifted a slingshot, almost ashamed of his boldness.

            Knee swallowed dry and agreed to the offer.

            “Thank you, Rori. So you, Paladin and Lily will cover us, with Durin’s blessing.”

            Kíli’s copycat intervened again.

            “I can lead the diversion team, and keep one eye on Kim in the meanwhile.”

            “No!” Knee’s whisper was almost a shout. “You’ll be at risk and…”

            An uncomfortable silence filled the place where Knee’s words should fill in. After some awkward moments, the older brother let his eyes fall down and the younger one completed the blanks.

            “We’re all at risk, Knee, since we left the Mountain. And we all agreed to it, you don’t have to blame yourself. They’re my siblings too.”

            “And Fíli is my best friend.” Added Rori. “I simply cannot leave him out there without helping, Knee.”

            “You won’t get rid of us, _nadad_. We’re the Young Company of Thorin Oakenknee, and we stick together.”

            The crown prince was visibly divided between relief of having such loyal followers and the anguish of leading them into danger. Knee closed his eyes and the sound of goblin voices in the wind brought unwelcome visions to his mind, and he felt the claws of fear crunching his heart. For the first time since he decided to go after his siblings, there was doubt, and in his anguish the eye of his mind saw eyes, glazed, dead clear eyes that could only belong to Fíli, dead emerald eyes that transpired Kim, and dead blue eyes that had his other brother’s name written on them. He was just a boy, and he was afraid.

            “Fré… I can’t. I can’t lead you to battle; I can’t risk you, any of you…”

            “Nah, it’s only a rescue, what can go wrong? Just because we are a bunch of inexperienced brats and haphazard warriors doesn’t mean we are useless!"

            “Aye, Adad always says we can at least be used as a bad example!” Offered Firc, oblivious that it didn’t help at all.

            Knee tugged his own hair, bowed head, helpless.

            “What can I do to keep you out of risk? Why did I allow you to follow me?”

            His voice was just a whisper, anguish released and guilt beyond the span of his actions. A warm hand squeezed his shoulder, and he looked up to meet deep sea blue eyes that reflected his own worries.

            “Thorin, listen to me. We are all at risk since the day we are born, or even before. To live is to be at risk. We all, all of us came because we wanted to come; it was our own decision, for each one of us. We know the danger, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re fighters, all of us, each one in his own way, but we are, and you can trust us, we’ll see it done, Thorin.” Lily could see him taking in a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, resolute. “But we don’t know the land, and we know almost nothing about goblins but that they are horrible. We need your lead, Thorin. I know you are young in dwarven standards, but you have more training to do it than anyone here. Please, lead on. We’ll follow you.”

            The wind brought the sound of harsh voices again, distorted by the distance, and Knee scanned his fellows one last time.

            “You’re right.” Swallowing hard, the dwelf addressed his fellows in arms, taking a stick to scratch the ground. “That’s what we’ll do when Bilbo comes back.”

 


	79. Chapter 79

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers  
> Blame Aredhel’s war song on me re-reading The Silmarilion; I always had in mind that she was from the First Age and fought in the wars against Morgoth, and her fight in this chapter was planned since forever; but how it was done is all The Silmarillion’s fault!  
> Warning: violence, gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I heard your voice  
> As clear as day  
> And you told me I should concentrate  
> It was all so strange  
> And so surreal  
> That a ghost should be so practical  
> Only if for a night
> 
> And the only solution was to stand and fight  
> And my body was bruised and I was set alight  
> But you came over me like some holy rite  
> And although I was burning, you're the only light  
> Only if for a night
> 
> (Only if for a Night - Florence and The Machine)

“I can’t believe Darth Vader was Luke’s father!”  
“Yes, he was! He was corrupted by the Dark side of the Force, that’s what I say.”  
“But he changed in the end. He came back to the Light side. The Light side was stronger in him than the Dark side, even if he fed the Dark side for so a long time.”  
“The Light side got strong again when he found his son. It was this love who made him see the Rebel Alliance was doing the right thing, acting against the Emperor and his oppression.”  
The shaman bowed his head in thought, trying to digest the whole story he just heard and what that could mean to him. Obviously the tirany of the Empire was no allegory for the Lights of the North, but the notion that not every rebellion was wrong was hard for him to swallow. Going against the traditions that kept his people alive in the harsh weather of the north was dangerous, too dangerous to be allowed. Even if it were to cost the lives of babies born the wrong gender.  
But he himself worked against tradition to save his daughter. He was a rebel under the eyes of the Lights.  
But the Lights didn’t punish his tribe for it, did they?  
Girls were not strong enough to provide for the tribe, that’s why they were not allowed to live if there was already a girl in the family. Too many girls would be a burden on the tribe, because they have their duties and are too weak to hunt and fish, and hunting and fishing was imperative for their living.  
But Chao learned to use a spear, and hunting knives, didn’t she?  
Why couldn’t other girls learn it too?  
“But it is our law!” Wang groaned to himself.  
“What?” Asked Brannen.  
“Huh? Nothing! I… I was thinking aloud.”  
The Dúnedain man eyed the Sun-Cheng shaman, sniffing rats.  
“I won’t say I’m sorry if I intrude, because at my age you don’t have much time for niceties; what’s the problem with your law?”  
Wang widened his eyes, angry at himself for being so obvious to a stranger, even if a greybeard.  
“Problem? No, there’s no problem, I…”  
Brannen humpfed, rolling his eyes.  
“I may be just a ranger, not someone enlightened in the ways of the spirits, but I’m one-hundred-seventy-five and know a little about life, ok?” The shaman looked back at him, a bit ashamed for being lectured when he himself was the one people used to go to seeking advice. “Now, what is your problem with law?”  
Wang dropped his head in his hands, closing his eyes and wanting to vanish. But no healer was there, the stranger would eventually go his way, the black haired dwarf was drugged so he couldn’t mess with this own bandages and Chao…  
“Chao should not be alive.”  
“Oh. I didn’t think his injuries were so serious…”  
“No, it’s not what I mean. I…” The shaman’s voice turned to a whisper. “I incurred in a crime to our traditions so Chao could live. I raised Chao in a way none would find it out. I taught Chao our path in life, as spiritual leaders… was to guide our people, protect them, and to… then Sham’s brother was in danger and Chao… Chao allowed a chance for the crime to be known… our sin… my sin… I hit Chao and… and I’ll never be forgiven…”  
“Are your Lights of the North so unforgiving that you fear to be doomed?”   
Wang just sighed.  
“I… I dared the Lights of the North when I consecrated Chao… it was a… a dirty trick, as if I could buy the Lights’ favor, I… and every day, and every time I taught Chao the secrets of our priesthood… I condemned myself… and Chao… now we’re paying the price… and my tribe might have been condemned as well and it is all my fault…”  
Brannen tried to take in a deep breath, as Óin had requested him to do several times along the day, but it was more on behalf of Wang’s situation than on his lungs’.  
“Ok, I don’t know anything about your Lights of the North, buddy, but I know a thing or two about cause and consequence. So, is your tribe going through adversities since your said crime?”  
The shaman shook his head still buried in his hands.  
“…No. Actually, we’re having bountifull summers the last decades, so…”  
“Is your family having hard times since…?”  
“No! Even if we didn’t have another child… but my wife had so a hard time during her last delivery that we almost count it as a blessing…”  
“Then why, in the name of the Valar, do you think whatever you did is worth punishment? If your Lights of the North were angry, they would have done worse to you and your people years ago, man!”  
Tears ran freely down the shaman’s face, hidden behind his hands.  
“…No forgiveness… no forgiveness, ever…”  
“Now, really, if even Darth Vader could go back to the Light side of the Force, why do you think your Lights of the North won’t forgive you?”  
“The Lights… the Lights might forgive me, but… Chao won’t… that’s why she comes not back, her death will lay on my shoulders, she’ll never forgive me…”  
“She?” Gasped Brannen. “I thought Chao was a he…”  
“Yes! She is a she, Chao is my daughter, and I should have acknowledged her as such since her first moment! If she lives… if she lives I’ll avow her as my second daughter, and I’ll give up priesthood if it is demanded from me, I’ll give up my people if needed, if I just can have my Chao back, my sweet, my brave, my beloved Chao, if the Lights of the North just call her back to me…”  
It was disconcerting for Brannen to watch a full grown man, a spiritual leader, sobbing like a desperate child, but he too had been parted from his daughter, and how many times did he sob like that when none was around? For how many years? And yet, when his own parting was in the horizon, her golden halo came back into his view, the sweed smile of Marcia greeted him, and he finally was able to talk about Star Wars with someone who actually watched it. Miracles did happen. The Dúnedain lifted his eyes and tried to comfort the shaman.  
“I’m sure your daughter will forgive you, Wang. She’ll understand you did what you deemed right.”  
Wang felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Brannen smiled.  
“If only the Lights call her back….”  
“They are calling. Can’t you hear?”  
The brokenhearted father almost fell from his stool when he heard the raspy voice behind him. The hand on his shoulder came to his face in a caress he deemed unreachable anymore, and golden eyes met golden eyes once more.  
“Chao…”  
Wang stood up in a hurry to support the girl who trembled out of exhaustion from having walked a couple of steps from her cot to the one closer to the door. He took her into the embrace of someone who lost his own life and found it again, tears washing his face unashamedly.  
“I’m here, my father…”  
“Chao, Chao…” He dropped to his knees, holding her hands and kissing them desperately. She made a gesture of pulling him up, but had no strenght for it.  
“My father, we must go. They are calling.”  
He upturned his eyes, confused at her demand.  
“Go where? Who is calling? Chao…?”  
She dragged her feet to the door, weak and unsure as if in a dream.  
“We must go outside. They are calling… father, they are calling us…”  
“Who is calling?”   
Brannen dared to ask the stranger, who looked back at him with a golden shine in her eyes, eerie pale face condescending as if he were a child instead of a weathered ranger.  
“The Lights of the North came.”   
  
000ooo000  
  
It was clear thear physical efforts had no result on the goblin Sorcerer, whose magic deflected arrow after arrow released by Kíli, Bard and the elves who could spare their attention from the main squirmish.  
“What does it take to fell this beast? A Black Arrow?”  
Bard’s question was followed by a black movement to his left, but it was no arrow, rather an ebony spear shaft handled by a purple wind.  
“Stop shooting!” Cryed Aredhel as she passed the line of archers. “This must be dealt another way.”  
“Aredhel, no!”  
Dwalin called after her but a hand gesture restrained him more than anything else could.  
“No, Dwalin! This fight is mine!”  
“Yes, dwarf, let your silver piece of meat come closer!” Demanded the Sorcerer. “Those of the Noldor have always been sweeter!”  
Saliva and malice dripped from the creature’s lips, bared teeth grinding its own wickedness.  
“Milady!”  
Culuin was the nest to try for Aredhel, being as noldorin as herself, along with Legolas and Elrond’s twins.  
“Back off, you fools!” The ancient elf shouted over her shoulder. “You know not the songs of Finrod Felagund to overcome such… filth.”  
With a swift movement she used her spear as a pole to propel herself in the direction of the Sorcerer, who laughed at her boldness.  
“Songs? Silvermeat wants songs?” Mocked the huge goblin. “I’ll make you dance with me!”  
But the dance Aredhel was willing to perform was not one bound to please the Sorcerer, nor anyone who might dare to be in her path. A somersault positioned her so her feet aimed the beast’s face, while her spear was a blur in her hands, making it impossible to know where it would land.  
And amidst the roar of the battle, her deep and powerful voice could be heard.  
Time stopped for those in reach of Aredhel’s song as she sang of light and courage and freedom; her words were understood but by few, as she voiced the power of the West in the language forbidden in Doriath where Thranduil was born.  
The Sorcerer trembled with rage at the sound of her beautiful voice and the mithril runes in the blade of her spear which, even if unable to pierce through the unnatural shield, was a a constant distraction for the goblin to deal with along the song. She sang of broken dungeons and slaves set free, of filth clansed by rain, of healing hands on the sick; and those who heard her voice were filled with hope and new strength in the fight, but the goblins cowered and despaired, afraid of the power of Valinor revealed with that song; for those who beheld Aredhel could for once see her unveiled, for the spirit of one who lived under the Trees of Yavanna held the light they gave.  
But then a sound like that of a lightning broke through the sky and Aredhel’s voice faltered when she looked at the source of that sound. An eerie curtain of golden and acquamarine lights descended from the sky, making the stars to waver through them. Close, too close to the ground the lights came, scaring both friend and foe. Never had they seen anything like that, never aurora borealis occured that away from the north pole.  
“Nellas…”  
Murmured Aredhel, for it was the slender form of her late love what she descried in the lights, and all her grief and sorrow and longing washed over her and bent her knee.  
“Now I gotcha, your pirouetting thing!” Cried the Sorcerer, exulting as he took hold of her silver hair and yanked it back, exposing Ardhel’s throat to the goblin’s vicious teeth. “I said Noldorin are the sweetest, and I mean to taste it again, Silvermeat!”  
Dwalin had no qualms in throwing one of his axes the moment the fighting pair stood still, even if former arrow shots were deflected and even Aredhel’s spear blade seemed to have little effect on the beast, but he had to try anyway. Seemingly it only amused the Sorcerer even more  
“What a handsome savior, huh? Will he be angry if I have your heart instead of him? Ah, but he won’t come any closer!”  
A violent pull ripped off most of her metal breast plate, exposing her purple chemise and part of her breast, while the desperate dwarf banged himself against the magic shield, unable to cross the final feet that sundered him from the helpless elf.  
An ugly scream burst from Aredhel’s lips when the goblin cleaved her breast with a claw, making her blood to pour from the gash it left and to splatter into the Sorcerer’s mouth.  
“Ah! That’s good!” The eveil creature shouted, boisterous. “It gives me strength, it makes me…”  
Sudden a look of surprise and delusion took hold of the goblin’s face as a very sharp blade cut into its skull.  
“This is not fair.”  
A burst of power threw Aredhel and Dwalin’s axe in her hand several yards away, while the Sorcerer held part of his scalp in place with a hand.  
“Deceiving, treacherous liars! Your unkind welcome will only come back upon you, and my vengeance will be fulfilled!”  
Kíli almost knocked down Culuin, who ran to Aredhel’s side willing to stop her bleeding with his own life if need be, in his way to the Sorcerer who brought them so much harm. (Elladan shove Culuin aside to tend Aredhel propperly, because Culuin was an exceeding archer with absolutely no healing skill besides an anti-hangover potion.)  
“No vengeance to be fulfilled here, creature! Leave my people, leave my kingdom, never to return!”  
“No vengeance? What do you mean, no vengeance?” Aredhel’s blood still dripped from the sorcerer’s mouth. “I didn’t have my beautiful body carried from the Misty Mountains to this accursed land, spending waves and waves of magic to get through that thrice accursed elf florest unnoticed, only to hear a petty king under a petty mountain to tell me I’ll not have my vengeance!”  
“It is over. You lost.”  
 Kíli couls almost hear in his own voice his brother trying to make him see reason when pinned to the ground with no chance of escape. But unlike Fíli in those situations, he sought more than victory – he still had his own bairns and friends to set free. His open-minded enemy seemed to know Kíli’s thoughts, even if it were his own brains that were exposed.  
“No. It is over and you lost!”  
A gesture of the Sorcerer’s free hand made the fake glade to tremble and the nearby trees to waver. Goblins, men, dwarves and elves alike ran away from the collapsing patch, saving one’s own pelt being more pressing than to skin another one’s. The young dwarven king felt the blood drain from his face.  
“No! You said it would take half a thousand…”  
“And you thought I had no alternative plan? Do you take me for a fool like yourself, petty king?” Stones and trees rivuleted hilside down, burying any hope Kíli had to find the prisoners alive.  
“I had a device to make the trap work, and if it weren’t enough, your little show of lights made me stronger yes, stronger!”  
Kíli was abashed. He was as oblivious at the meaning of the strange lights in the sky as anyone else, and for a moment hoped they might be a good omen. But no, they made Aredhel to open her guard and lent more power to the goblin beast…  
“No…”  
“Yesss, petty king! I’m more powerful, I feel stronger even with the details your sweet Noldorin put in my head…” As to show him how much powerful the lights in the sky made him, the Sorcerer took his hand off the axe cut, and it was already sealed, even if with a protruding scar that suggested some amount of encephalic stuff left on the outside. “I won’t have The Bane to play with me, but you’ll have some elf-puppies less to play with you – they’re down there, don’t you remember?”  
The loud thunder of tumbling stones still filled the air, and the cries of those who were nor fast enough to escape could only be compared to those of ones trapped in a mine cave-in. To imagine Lyn and Fìli down there was too much. His lovely girl, so alike his wife as his golden son was alike his late brother… They could both be down there, under tons of rocks and rubbish and…  
“No…”  
He knew it should not be so, because he had justice to pay on that beast, not only for his children, but to the hobbit guest too and his family innocent babysitter, but…  
“What will you do now, dwarf?” Asked the goblin in mockery, signalling the wave of dust that came from the stone avalanche. “The shorter way down is just… over there!”  
“You don’t dare a king!”  
A strong and commanding voice thundered, and a staff of many twingy thingies hit the goblin’s large nose, followed by the flash of Glamdring being wielded.  
“Ouch! Hey!” Complained the Sorcerer. “This is not fair play amongst coleagues in wizardry!”  
Gandaf’s voice was outrageous when he answered.  
“I’m no colleague to spirits dedicated to the Darkness!” A hit of the Grey Pilgrim’s staff on the ground made things clearer, literally. “I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor! Your dark sorcery will not avail you!”    “Oh, come on, “I’m not even an ancient spirit, just a dark one!”  
What was to be an escapade for the goblin Sorcerer turned out to be cue for his downfall, as Gandalf’s staff decided the goblin needed a bit more light to see his own fate.  
“I’m sure I won’t like this…”  
    And the goblin Sorcerer exploded.  
  



	80. Young Company in Action

“So. Don’t move the nail, I’ll move my hands.”

“We’ll never undo these knots this way, they’re too tight!”

Lyn ignored Ferumbras’s complains and twisted her wrists in some impossible positions for a while.

“See?” Stated the dwelf, triumphantly, as the rope coiled on the ground. “You just need the right technique and some sharp tool to help.”

The hobbit was flabbergasted.

“How did you…?”

“Mister Nori taught us. He says you never know when you’ll have to escape a nasty situation, so…”

She worked deftly on Fíli’s knots, earning a moan in response. Hopefully the youngling would wake up soon.

“What will we do when they come back? I don’t believe they’ll leave us unguarded for long.”

Ferumbras massaged his limbs, relieved to have his movements back. Lyn gazed at him sideways while cradling Fíli’s head in her lap.

“But… you mentioned a lot of hobbitish vengeances, I believed you had a plan and all we needed was to have our hands free!” She stroked her brother’s braids, wiping hair and grime away from his brow. “Don’t you have a pan, mister Ferumbras? For us to escape?” She pleaded, forlorn. “I don’t like this cave, it’s unstable…”

Perceiving his venting out wished of justice had built unreal expectations for the poor dwelfling. Ferumbras tried to fix it the best he could.

“I have!” He lied. “I have, I just… must wait for Fíli to wake up, and neither of us is able to carry him very far and…” Reality struck him. He was a liability. “And you both can run faster than me, so when the chance comes, you run away the fastest you can, you run away the fastest you can, while I distract them. Do you understand?”

The girl frowned, noticing the obvious flaw.

“And how will you escape…?”

“I… I’m sure your father has sent a mighty army to find us, and when they come they’ll free me and mister Leri too and everything will be all right.” The hobbit answered with a knot in his throat, hoping against hope that it would be true, but sure he would pay dearly when the goblins found out the children’s’ escape. That is if that escape indeed would happen.

A voice startled him from the mouth of the cave.

“Right. But while the army isn‘t here, I think we can better this plan.”

“Bilbo!”

The prisoners had to restrain themselves from shouting, overjoyed by the sight of the older hobbit.

“Shh!” He hushed them. “There are guards nearby, even if they seem to avoid coming too close to this place. There are a lot of loose rocks on the hillside, it doesn’t seem very safe around here.”

“Aye, I noticed it.” Offered Lyn. ”I don’t like this place, the stones are not happy.”

Bilbo pondered that only a dwarf could worry on stones’ happiness, but if he himself could tell whether a garden was joyful for being well tended, it was only reasonable that Aulë’s creatures could relate to the feelings of a rock.

“Wait, where is Leri?” He asked.

“The goblins took him away, we don’t know where too. They mentioned a sorcerer.”

“As if it were not bad enough without magic involved.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “Anyway, we’ll have to deal with one problem at a time. We’re about two hundred yards from here in the forest. If we can make it there it will be easier to flee, we came through bushes and groves and that I doubt a goblin can pass through. How is your leg?”

“Not very useful.” Admitted Ferumbras. “Priorize the younglings, I…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m sure Lily will be able to carry you.”

Ferumbras lowered his eyes at his cousin’s rebuke.

“Don’t be stupid to sacrifice two children for the sake of one lame hobbit. Even if Lily can carry me, it will slow you down and the goblins will catch us all, we’ll face the same fate Leri…”

His voice faltered and Bilbo understood what went unsaid.

“We will find him too. We have the best tracker this side of the Misty Mountains. Now…” The harsh sound of goblin voices got louder and Bilbo whispered, taking a step back to the mouth of the cave. “Be prepared, I’ll be back with help.”

Before the prisoners could fathom what happened, Bilbo turned into thin air.

Their surprise, both at his arriving and at his departing, had to be postponed when a faint wail claimed their attention from the ground.

“Knee? Nadad?”

Lyn ran to Fíli’s side, trying to comfort her little brother and hush him down so the goblins wouldn’t be startled.

“Hey, nadadith, Lyn is here, Lyn is here…”

Fíli sniffled against her shoulder, still confused in his awakening.

“I had a bad dream with nadad Knee… Orcs got him and I was too far and I couldn’t help him and, and…”

“Hush, Fee, it’s all right, all right…”

Tears flowed from the blond dwelfling’s eyes as he sought comfort in his sitters’ raven black hair, so alike their mother’s.

“My throat is sore…” Complained the youngster.

“You retched twice today, of course it’s sore.”

Ferumbras sat down beside the pair, ruffling the boy’s blond hair.

“Fíli, look at me, laddie.” The dwelf did as he was told to. “Bilbo and Lily are coming to get us away. You must be brave and do everything they tell us to do, understand?”

Fíli rubbed one eye with his fist.

“Aunty Lily came? She’ll rescue us all?”

“She’ll try, she and Bilbo and don’t know who else will do their best, but you must be brave and obey everything they tell us to do, understood? Can you do this for me?”

“Aye.”

“And if I tell you to run, you run, dealt?”

“We will not leave you behind, mister Ferumbras, please!” Both complained and warned Lyn, who heard his conversation with Bilbo. “You’re almost our babysitter to, we cannot go without you!”

Ferumbras smiled sadly at the mention of babysitting them. It was true, he had had a lot of happy days with the royal younglings while resting his leg. But even if he managed to run away with his almost useless leg, there would be no more sunshine in the balcony for him.

“I’m proud to hear such prize, but there’s someone better fit for this task. I’ll try to find him, and, if I succeed, you’ll have the best babysitter in Middle-earth back to you.”

The double hug he earned was the most precious thing he ever had since his youth in the golden fields of barley in the Shire, and for a moment the convicted bachelor wished he had raised a little family. Maybe, if things had gone differently and the goblins had not their way… Maybe someday… After all, adoption was always an option, was it not?

 

000ooo000

 

Bilbo slipped the golden ring into his pocket and approached the place they had stopped, very quietly, when a storm of limbs pinned him to the ground.

“Rori? What in goodness sake…?”

The dwarfling released the hobbit, embarrassed.

“My apologies, Mister Bilbo, I was on watch and Knee said none should pass and…”

“All right, all right, Rori, no need to apologize; let us hurry.”

The hobbit stood up and straightened his waistcoat, making sure the ring was still I his hiding place.

“Bilbo, are you ok?” Asked Iris, removing a twig from his hair.

“Did you find them?” Was Knee’s worry.

“Yes, and yes. But Leri was taken to another place and Ferumbras’ leg is very bad. Do you think you can carry him, Lily?”

The dwarrowdam pursed her lips, thinking.

“I might, at least for a while; but I was supposed to give you cover, along with Paladin.”

“And me!” Protested Rori, slingshot in hand.

Lily squeezed her eyes at her own lack of tact.

“Yes, and Rori. Frérin and Firc will provide distraction…”

“And _Kee_ and _Hazy_!” Kim crossed her tiny arms, defiantly.

“…along with Kim and Hazel…” The dwarrowdam completed, visibly annoyed by the risk the younglings were so willing to take. “Whilst Thorin, Iris and you go rescue them.”

Bilbo pondered her words, and for once dared to take the lead among a party that was composed solely by people younger than him. It didn’t matter is some of them had more warfare training, we was Thorin Oakenshield’s official burglar and they were not. Of course Lily had been the grumpy dwarf’s fiancée, but that didn’t matter in warfare.

“You didn’t count on Ferumbras’ disability. He needs to be carried, even if he begs to stay behind.”

“And we didn’t count mister Leri wouldn’t be there.” Knee said, eyes downcast. For more that he and Frérin claimed they didn’t need a babysitter anymore, the long-time employee was more than someone who was paid to care for them; Leri was actually someone who really cared for them like family, and they cared for him the same way. The young prince could not remember a life without Leri taking care of him and his siblings.

“Right.” The hobbit weighed the options. “We rescue the ones who are here, and then we try to find Leri.” Several eyes agreed to his statement. “But I deem it better Lily to come along in the rescue team, to carry Ferumbras, and Iris helps with coverage, as well as Kim.”

“What?” Iris fumed. “How do you suppose I’ll give cover to any of you? Throwing stones?”

Bilbo gave her a side glance like if she were a troll accusing him of wanting a company of dwarves to be set free.

“Well…”

“ _Kee_ can _th’ow_ _dagg’as_.”

“Aye, Kim, if we _had_ any daggers…” Knee pondered, brows furrowed like a caterpillar. “I see no other choice, Cousin Iris. You may think it gross to throw stones, but that’s how Mister Bilbo distracted the giant spiders in Mirkwood, or at least it’s what Father tells.”

“Ok, yeah, I was there too, you know.” She was forced to agree.

“Right. No time to waste, then. Lily, you come with us. Bilbo, you lead the way. Frérin, at my signal you take Firc and Hazel and distract the goblins. Paladin, Rori, Iris, you hide in the shrubs and cover us. Kim, you stick to Iris and do _not_ leave her side, understood?”

“Aye.”

The rescue team left the remaining ones behind and sought the most inconspicuous path to the choky. The distraction team waited, anxious. Frérin and Firc had done such kind of thing together already, but only distracting family members, guards, cooks, miners, and… well, the list was not short, but didn’t include goblins.

“Where did that brat learn how to give out orders like this?”

Frérin scratched an itchy point on his head.

“Erm, most probably with Mom…”

“Hmm. This makes sense.

Firc had her eyes on the rescuers and waved a hand back to them.

“Knee is making a sign, we’d better go.”

“Wait!” Asked Kim. “ _Hazy don’t wanna_ go!”

Frérin knelt in front of his sister, tense.

“Kim, we cannot wait for your bunny to fancy a stroll, we must go!”

“But…”

Whichever argument Kim had to convince her brother was cut short by a loud sound coming from the goblin camp.

“What is this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yep, dear readers, on more cliff-hanger – that is, if there’s still a cliff at all…  
> Reviews: Kim cradles herself in your lap with Hazel. Favourites: Knee and Frérin do not play a prank on you. Follows: Bombur prepares a plate of stew just for you.


	81. Lack of Information, Lots of Anguish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the long delay, but I’ve been buried in work and had a ComicCon to attend, so… This is what I managed to write down, hope you enjoy it!

 

Leaning on an aspen tree, Wolfram took in a deep breath and tried to imagine what was possible to do now.

Having found the pattern that matched the feeling of his younger kinsmen, and noticing it was moving in a certain direction, he juggled his ability of focusing to find his fellow wizards while not losing contact with the little ones. He hoped their babysitter and Bilbo’s cousin where with them, but didn’t know if he was able to distinguish them individually, not having spent a longer time with them due to his dedication to wizardry classes. But he was sure about the dwelflings, and he was determined to report his finding.

Later, inside Erebor’s halls, at the comfort of the King’s personal dining hall, he would describe what he did in words like the following.

“Radagast’s _aura_ \- Stephen Hawking forgive me! – was easy to find, I’ve spent a lot of time with him and his electric frequency is already known to me, even if I didn’t know it when we left Erebor that night. As we had no walkie-talkie, I had to communicate to him the little ones’ relative coordinates and hope it would work. You know, you can never be sure with a thing based on supersymmetric strings manipulation because there is no experimental evidence and...”

“Wolf, we don’t have Babel fishes here...”

The biologist rolled his eyes.

“Humpf. Fortunately, my colleagues are used to truncated communication and understood my intangible babbling, and Radagast was comparatively closer to the place and was the faster wizard available.”

“ _’Cause_ of _Hazy_!” Kim cheered Kim, hugging the rabbit fiercely.

“Hazel was not even there, dear.” Corrected her mother.

“Oh…”

The look of disappointment was obvious on the child’s face, and the brown wizard comforted her.

“But Hazel was a good teacher to the entire warren.”  
            “See? _Hazy ‘teached’_ aaaall them!”

Radagast ruffled her unruly hair affectionately.

“Yes, Kim, but she was very irresponsible in leaving Erebor without telling me first; what would happen if a goblin caught her?”

It was meant to be a lesson, but Kim had her own ideas.

“Erm, _Hazy_ would kick _gob’ins_ where it hurts?”

Kíli held his daughter a little tighter in his arms and guided the conversation back to its original path.

“And you, Mister Gandalf? How was it that you found us?”

The grey pilgrim cleansed his throat with a sip of wine and declined.

“This is still Wolfram’s story; maybe being for too long used to… how do you call it? Random fields? Quasiparticles physics? Quantum correlations? Whatever... It makes things harder to explain in words you’d understand.”

The otherworldly wizard smiled, feeling the warmth of his peers’ acceptance after the notion that his scientific knowledge was scorned by them. It was not, it was just understood another way.

“When I found the prisoners, I felt there was a disturbance of the electromagnetic field all about the area, and it puzzled me. I felt it around the detention area, but it was like the foam of a wave washing on the beach, so there _had_ to be a larger wave – or a continuous system of waves – to produce that riptide. So, I sought for the source of that energy flow and _bingo_! I had a big trouble in my hands.”

“Mahal knows how big!” Mumbled Kíli, still stunned by the hugeness of the goblin sorcerer. “And when he bragged about being stronger than before, I...”

The young king’s voice faltered and he closed his eyes at the hideous memory, and his brother-in-law touched his wrist to claim his attention.

“I know I took a dangerous path, but the energy I felt could not be blocked or drained so easily, I swear by Carl Sagan!”

Ellen though about the results of his brother’s decisions and closed her eyes.

“Cosmos forgive us all...”

The strange wording was incomprehensible for most of the assembly, but accepted as a, otherworldly trait. Wolfram steadied himself and continued.

“So, I had no way to stop the thing from use electromagnetics, and I asked myself, how do I fight an inferno like this? And as a friend of mine used to say, when you ask the question the right way the answer is already there.”

“I still don’t get what you mean… but this is not unusual when we talk about wizards’ quotes.”

“It is all right, Kíli.” Wolfram assured him. “I’m used to not being understood. The fact is, when you have to kill an oil well fire, one means to achieve it is to dynamite it – ok, I can explain it in Third-Age understandable words: the thing is, sometimes you can’t extinguish a fire by putting water on it, but if you use _more_ fire you can kill the original fire by cutting its way to oxygen. Oh, come on, everyone who ever made a campfire knows too much wind can kill a flame, don’t you?” Several heads nodded in agreement. “So, I overloaded the electromagnetics user. Of course it would lend him more power in the first moments, but then…”

“You overcharged him.” Stated Ellen, nodding in understating, but not fully comfortable with the results. “A dangerous move, and not free of consequences.”

Several eyes looked at where Dwalin should be sitting, his usual place near the fire of the large dining room at the royal housing. It would take some time to get used to what happened.

 

000ooo000

 

“What is that mishmash out there?” Whispered Ferumbras, stretching his neck in the direction of the cave entrance whilst covering himself with the unbound rope. All they didn’t need was the goblins finding out they were no more constrained, even if the disguise would not last. “Your brother is not insane enough to claim the attention of the whole camp, I suppose.”

“Erm, Knee maybe not, now about Frérin I wouldn’t wage.”

“Shh, Fíli, I’m trying to see!”

“And since when do you see with your ears?”

That was a good question, but Lyn dismissed it with a sigh as she crawled closer to the entrance trying to have a better view of the outside without being noticed. The dwelf quickly crawled back.

“There’s a bear outside, I fancy it could be Beorn!”

“Beorn?” Ferumbras swallowed a cry. “The one who almost munched those outlanders as dessert at the wedding party?”

“Yes, that’s him!”

Lyn’s joy was in diametric opposition to the hobbit’s panic.

“Isn’t he… hmm… a bit unpredictable, to say the least?”

His fear was not quite unjustified. He missed the visit to the skinchanger’s home due to his trip along the elven path through Mirkwood, and the party incident was fresh in his mind.

“No, he is cool.” Chimed in Fíli. “He would never hurt a friend while there are goblins or orcs to fight.”

Ferumbras pondered what he heard from the youngster with the sounds outside the cave. Dust sprinkled from the roof at each roar of the huge bear.

“And what would he do if there were no more goblins?”

“Stop philosophizing, it’s better to get closer to the entrance. Can’t you see the stones are…”

Lyn’s statement was cut short by a cry near said entrance. The corpse of a goblin fell in front of it, an arrow dangling from its throat and a gurgling sound serving as its last words.

“Time to go!”

It is accounted that since this day these were Ferumbras’ favourite words, losing only to ‘ _second breakfast is ready_ ’.

“Knee!”

Lyn and Fíli shouted in joy at the sight of their older brother. They made their way out in a jiffy, but Ferumbras found himself unable to move his bad leg. A moan of pain gave him out.

“Mister Ferumbras?”

Lyn looked back at him, the shadow of fear crossing her eyes for a moment.

“Go!” He shooed her. “I’ll…”

“You’ll get out now!” Lily’s voice commanding him was accompanied by a gloved hand pulling his own and a mysterious push at his back, urging him forward, bad leg and all. The children were already gone.

“No, my leg…”

Lily took a better hold of his waist with her free hand, helping as possible with the one holding the bow. The hobbit’s complains were inaudible under the roar of fight and something more. Small pebbles dropped from the ceiling, and dust choked him.

“To the left, it is sliding right!”

Ferumbras was sure he heard his cousin’s voice, but Bilbo was nowhere to be seen.

The main problem was that Bilbo’s order directed them into the middle of the camp, 90 degree from the rescuers’ own small camp. Not that Ferumbras knew it, but he could see Beorn just fifty yards from him and he froze.

“Ferum, we must go!”

“The…the…”

The bear looked straight at him.

The Sun-Cheng ambassador and his First Fisher fought a safe distance from Beorn, wielding their weapons with an unworldly speed. Green and blue lights flashed from their blades, cursing each goblin they touched with death.

The bear went down on all fours and started to run.

In Ferumbras’ direction.

 _Very_ fast.

“Goodness, Ferum!”

There was Bilbo’s voice again, and the Took heir didn’t understand how he was able to stay standing while Lily crossed her bow on her shoulder to carry him with both hands away from the hillside.

Not that he was paying much attention.

Not with an enormous black bear galloping in their direction.

“Bilbo, go with the kids, I can handle…”

What Lily could handle was lost in the thunder of falling stones that avalanched at their right, and the roar of an angry bear who finally reached them, sweeping both hobbit and dwarrowdam from the ground in one jealous hug, and turned away.

Just in time.

Even at the skirts of the stone slide, it took a lot of Beorn’s bear instincts to run in the right direction, avoiding the rocks that danced in a strange race downhill.

Ferumbras couldn’t see very much thugged under a bear’s armpit, but was glad to see the Sun-Cheng warriors were able to outdo the slide while undoing some goblin necks in the passing. Now, all, he hoped for was that the youngsters had had their chance and that he would be able to see his cousin Bilbo again.

Even if it were to shout at him that it was the last time Bilbo convinced him to join into and adventure.

But the goblins who survived Beorn and the Sun-Cheng, and who also escaped the avalanche, had other ideas, seemingly.

“Give us the elf-puppy back and none of you will be hurt.” Lied the goblin captain.

Lily slid from Beorn’s arm in the same movement her bow found her hand and an arrow was nocked in the string. All her training in her birth world was not a third of what her dwarven body was able to in Middle-earth, and she knew it.

“This fellow has never been yours to be given back. Give way!”

The goblins were crowding around them. Not a nice view, to say the least. But Lily was angry, and an angry Lily was something even Thorin Oakenshield respected.

Seemingly, the goblins were not as lucid as Thorin Oakenshield.

“Or what? You’ll put your bear-slave to use? We were taken by surprise then, but we’re prepared now!”

The goblin bit his lip in a lascivious way none of the non-goblins understood.

Beorn gently deposited Ferumbras on the ground and took a couple of steps forward, making _clear_ that he was in his charge.

“Come on, furry mattress, give us some comfort!”

Some chord was touched in the skinchanger’s soul that should have been left untouched. But no, stupid Burzg had to open his big mouth and remind Beorn of his past as slave in Goblin Town.

The roar that followed shattered the stoned that didn’t crack in the avalanche.

If the goblins wanted to talk about vengeance, there was someone who could spend hours chatting on the issue. That is, if he didn’t feel more inclined to break their necks instead.

But, the goblin captain had a point: their numbers were still much larger than the rescuers and the rescued ones, even with several losses in the cave-in. Beorn’s sheer force would not be enough to overcome them.

“Shardik is not a pelt, Twisted-soul!” The foreign leader cried, swirling his spear in a meaningful way. “Run away while you can, doom is upon you!”

Whit that Tsui brought to his lips what previously looked like just another decorative trinket around his neck, and blew a loud and shrill whistle, at what nothing happened.

“Wow, sounds like we’re doomed to listen to a whistler.” The chorus of hideous laughter could not be more hideous. “What will you do now, whistler?”

Burzg, the bone-plated goblin captain, teased again, one step closer to the small group towered by a bear.

Said bear smiled, if to smile was possible in such a muzzle.

“Execu...”

What or who the goblins were to execute was muffled by the sound of paws. But not Beorn’s paws. And not just paws. Paws, hooves and wings; claws, fangs and antlers; the goblin camp area was overrun by a myriad of rats, squirrels, wild cats, owls, wolves, and deer.

Such a bustle the wild herd of forest creatures provided that the goblins didn’t know what to do, or to execute, by the way.

Not that Ferumbras or Lily knew, actually, but knowing it had been summoned by Tsui was a good omen. They looked at him for guidance as the goblins tried to do something about the wildlife that bit and scratched and pecked and clawed them unmercifully. The Sun-Cheng leader smiled broadly, a mischievous gleam in his golden eyes that almost reminded her of Fíli in his best days, if they only where light blue.

“Shardik, guide us!”

“What?” Was Lily’s surprised question to Tsui’s plea.

“He knows where to go, we don’t! Hurry!”

It took her a fraction of a second to understand. He had provided the means for them to escape, but they needed to choose their way. The bear started to move, but for her own purposes it was the wrong way.

“Beorn, over here!”

Lily cried to him and weaved in the general direction she knew they had to take to find the others. She only hoped he would understand her, but things worked well enough at the Battle of Five Armies for her to feel safe around him, and that he would comply.

“Stop that dwarf!”

She still heard as they run away, but any voice that uttered it was soon silenced by a squirrel that dig its tiny front paws into the goblin’s nostrils and kicked its mouth with the hind ones. It could have been funny, but for the hart that pinned the goblin to the ground, one hoof on each limb and menacing antlers ready to torn the goblin’s throat open at any wrong movement. Something made Lily to look back.

“Fly, you fool!” Radagast shouted at her, having just reached the camp on his wooden sleigh powered by rabbits. “We’ll hinder them!”

 _‘This explains a lot’_ , thought Lily as she ran with all speed she was able. Tsui’s was not a simple dog whistle, it was a predetermined signal, and Radagast and his furry fellows its aim. She turned back to the direction they were fleeing, thanking Mahal and whatever other Vala was involved in the coming of the weird Istar to Middle-earth.

When the ground began to get steeper and the fugitives to get slower with the effort, one of the goblins almost reached Lily’s back, trying to grab anything of her clothes or quiver, but a swift arrow found its mark, followed by a stone that fell just two inches from the dying goblin. The dwarf woman had no time to think it could have knocked her down; she was just relieved to have someone to watch her back.

Two more stray goblins tried for them, one stabbed by Sham’s harpoon-like weapon and other who fell to his knees without apparent reason and then spluttered black blood before laying still.

“One for the Shire!”

Lily shook her head as she ran, wishing she could see Bilbo to slap him for being so silly as to boast a kill while invisible. She’d never think it possible from the shy hobbit they knew three days after rolling down a cliff due an enchanted map, but, if her sister had changed that much in the last years, it was only expected that Bilbo would not be quite the same too.

The awaiting group was ready for the flight when the stragglers reached the top of the hill and the concealing trees. Radagast was running in circles in the goblin camp, playing catch-up with the ones who weren’t busy with the animals. His runs and turns seemed erratic, but looking from above it was clear he was leading the enemy further from the hills, and with a shrill whistle the whole group led by the brown wizard left the place, trying to attract them away from the real target.

The real target retreated in the underbrush, now and then turning back to make sure they weren’t being hunt, and run back the way they came.

 

000ooo000

 

“Gandalf! You’re too late, they…”

Kíli’s face was of despair, and only the strong hand of the grey wizard around his wrist prevented the young dwarven king from seeking a faster way down with the rocks that still slid.

            “Don’t give up hope yet, son of Durin!” But Gandalf’s face showed he was not that sure, eyebrows furrowed like a pair of angry caterpillars, and Kíli saw the same look of when he asked about his uncle after the Battle of the Five Armies. “More have come from Erebor besides me, and I don’t have report from all of them yet. Send for horses while we make our way on foot through these steep paths, for for good or evil we must reckon what happened down there.”

            Kíli’s face was the portrait of anguish all the while, but he agreed at last, eyes pooling tears.

            “I’ll follow you, Tharkûn, because it is the share of a king to laugh louder and to grieve deeper. But my heart is broken for the deaths I’ve not seen yet, and hope escapes me.”


	82. Paths to be Trodden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s been a tumultuous period in my life, I just hope it’s not impacting on this fic’s quality – in the middle of a burnt-out syndrome this is one of the few things that still keep me going on.   
> Please let me know what is ok and what is lacking, you are the torches that guide me in the dark tunnels of creation.

“I’ve never seen something like this!”

Brannen was overwhelmed by the sight of the _aurora borealis_ , the thick curtain of lights that changed the night sky into drafts of heaven. The old dúnedain recorded the descriptions elves made of the passages from Middle-earth to Valinor, de Undying Land, even if he thought it a bit unsettling to hear stories from people who had travelled the paths of death and returned, like Lord Glorfindel. Actually, seeing those lights was more upsetting than hearing the stories. What if this was the passage to death itself?

“Those are the Lights of the North, which we serve.” Whispered the shaman, kneeling down in worship. His daughter did not, and he drew her attention. “Chao!”

But the girl didn’t heed him, walking closer to the bulwark of the balcony instead. He steps were mild but intent, her whole body trembling with the effort now that her father was supporting her no more. Brannen took his place, worried that she would fall.

“We must pay respect at the Light’s first sight, Chao cannot be this discourteous, and they’ll punish her!”

Wang whispered a bit louder to Brannen, but the girl seemed to ignore him. Only when her body was pressed against the stone bulwark did she stop, and then raised her face and hands to the phenomenon. Some of the healers came out to the balcony too, noticing the movement of the patients.

“Are you sure?”

Brannen whispered back, a hand ready to steady her, just in case.

“Of course I am, I’m a shaman of my people!”

Chao half closed her golden eyes and started to chant in a foreign language, melodious like elvish, long-worded like entish, and deeply moving like dwarwish. At least, that was what Brannen could make out of what he heard. But what he felt could hardly be described by words, as if whatever was being said or chanted had an echo inside his soul, like the homesickness he felt when living in the world his daughter was born. He couldn’t decipher the words, but the feeling was the same, of belonging to somewhere else unreachable, and that none around could understand it.

It could be an illusion, but the Lights seemed to come closer, almost touching the forest that could be seen a few miles to the west. They waved, they danced and rippled in the dark, sending eerie luminescences on the wide area once known as the Desolation of Smaug. Her chant dimmed, and Chao lowered her hands and face, in submission, and Brannen could swear by the Meneltarma (2) that he heard a sound like that of a glass harmonica. Not that he ever heard a glass harmonica at all, but the piercing sound that seemed to play inside his skull could be nothing but an answer to the girl’s prayer.

“What is she doing?” The dúnedain asked the shaman, unable to conceal his curiosity.

“She…” Wang knotted his eyebrows in a strange tilde. “She consecrated herself to the Lights… as a woman…”

“So what?”

The shaman rolled his eyes as if he had no optic nerve to worry about.

“Didn’t you listen to anything I told you? That our traditions forbid a second daughter when there’s no son, forbid women in priesthood, forbid women in anything that’s not the care of the family and the tribe? Have I been speaking to deaf ears?”

“No, father mine. Your own ears have been deaf to the message of the Lights.”

Chao didn’t turn back to face him, but she could be heard clearly as if all the roughness of being silent for so long had been washed away by her prayer.

“What?”

“Who decreed the traditions? Who said things don’t change?” Chao turned around to him and faced the group of dwarven healers who crowded the small balcony. “Everything changes. Even stones change.” Several heads nodded in agreement, knowing the nature of stone better than any other race. “If it took me the life of a beloved one to find it out, it was little sacrifice, as huge as this sacrifice was to me. I know the path I am to tread. And you, Sun-Cheng Wang Wu Chao? Do you know? Are you willing to take the path of change the Lights of the North are asking us to take?”

The man trembled in his place and forced himself to stand up, leaning on his staff of many trinkets, facing his daughter’s eyes with his own golden ones.

“The path of the Lights has always been the tradition! We… I can’t!

She shook her head lightly, as one does to a misbehaved child that is caught lying for the sake of a playmate’s fault.

“So, it was my mistake to come back when the Lights called me. You didn’t change. You won’t acknowledge me as your daughter instead of your son, even with all the witnesses here in the Mountain of the dwarves. You don’t avouch me.”

“No! Chao, I… You don’t understand, I…”

“I don’t?” Her voice was bitter now. “I understand your cowardice, my father. But it won’t keep me from doing what I was called to do. Because if you didn’t consecrate me to the Lights when I was born, They would consecrate me anyway. If you had left me in the wild, I’d live with Shardik’s people, they’d adopt me from day one. And I’d come back when called. Just like I did tonight.” Her fingers played with the amulet hanging around her neck and the blue and green lights in the sky flickered. “I just don’t know if I’d be more or less angry than I am right now.”

Her eyes flashed gold.

“Chao...”

Feeling he was the wrong person in the right place, Brannen tried to amend things.

“Milady, your father is just, erm, confused, and…”

“Confused? Telling you anything but wiping babies’ butts and cooking fish for stinking men is wrong for a woman means being confused?” She shook her head and the green in the sky shook too. “The guilt for his own wrong actions against me and all other girls and grown up women in our people is certain to have made him utter those beautiful words to call me back. But I came back for more than his tears. I came back because of the change the Lights are asserting for years, and no shaman is willing to disclose to our people.”

“Chao… Chao, my dear… I was _protecting_ you, and I… and the traditions came to _protect_ our people and…

“ _Protect_ us from what? From recognizing Sun-Cheng’s own cowardice against helpless infants? From the fear a strong woman means a lazy man is less worthy?”

“What…” The man was defeated, and bowed his head. “What am I to do, Chao?

“Come back to me. You pleaded that I would come back to you, now I ask, will you come back to me? Will you stand up for the deeds you did when I was born?”

“I… I will.”

“Then…” And she held his hand, making him to stand up. “Then it is over, father. The days of heaten traditions are over. We’ll go back to our people to tell them, and they’ll hear you and me.”

“I don’t know if our people will be willing to hear us. It is… too great a change.”

“We will not be alone.”

With these words she turned her golden eyes to the bluish curtains of the Lights of the North, and said no more.

 

000ooo000

 

“Why do we have to take such a long detour, Gandalf?”

The grey wizard humpfed for the umpteenth time to the impatient dwarf at his side, kicking a lose stone with the lower end of his staff before landing his boot on a slippery rock.

“Why, o why do I have to get along with a gruff king who can’t wait until we reach our destination?”

Kíli used a slim trunk as a fireman pole while Gandalf continued down the best way for someone taller than five feet. Tauriel and Legolas jumping at the wizard’s side made clear it was about people taller than five feet but not of elven race, of course. Nori and Bifur followed Kíli, and Glóin grabbed Gimli just before he could take the same route. Estel and most of the rangers followed the wizard, finding their way through the thickets as if they were one with them, as well as Bard’s folk. Kind of half of them had retreated to where the horses had been kept in waiting, with orders to lead them along a milder way around the hillside and to find them when possible. The injured ones were being led back to the Mountain, as it was closer to that place than Dale.

“It’s _my_ children who’re out there!”

“One more reason to be careful!”

Even knowing the main host of the goblins had been killed or entombed, they had not how to know what or who was left standing there, and after the meeting with the Sorcerer they had no reason to believe it would be any picnic in the park. Men had been killed, and the elf Aredhel was in such a bad condition Kíli feared for her. Dwalin refused to leave her side, despite Elrond twins assuring him it was useless. The young king shook his head mentally. ‘ _Useless_ ’ was to try to convince Dwalin to do anything different from what he had in mind.

 

000ooo000

 

“Are you sure it’s the right way?”

“Shh, Lyn, they may be hunting us yet!”

Lyn shut her mouth at her brother’s scolding, slapping herself mentally for her own stupidity. Of course the goblins would not give up so easily if they came so far seeking for revenge. But it wasn’t the way she came, or at least she wasn’t sure if it was leading them in the right direction, and the right direction could only be _home_. It was also unfair that Knee reprimanded her for asking a single question when Beorn was making such a ruckus just from walking, or at least so it sounded to her half-elven ears, so it had to sound the same to Knee’s. The Sun-Cheng were doing no better, despite better than humans used to. Only the hobbits seemed to be as silent as silence itself, but they were only four of the small escaping company, and livid Ferumbras was being carried by Beorn, what nullified the hobbit’s silent steps if he were on the ground. Fíli was being carried by one of the Sun-Cheng, too – Tsui, was that the name? – and the dwelf girl thought it was just fair, after all her little brother had been through. But she herself felt tired, so tired…

“Here.”

Firc took her hand and the feeling of her best friend close to her made Lyn feel stronger. They always played that none could stand them both together in a fight if they wanted to, and now was the time to want it. All the hours in the training arena had been just that, training and teasing, daring her older brothers just for the sake of it. Now her best friend was there beside her while her brothers where too busy to notice she was stumbling from tiredness and thirst. Lyn felt like crying.

Beorn took Ferumbras down from his shoulders and left him behind on the leafy ground, not even slowing down his steps as he wandered around a thicket and disappeared in the brambles. The north-easterlingas followed him without a word, and Fíli was hurriedly stowed in Lily’s arms.

“What…?”

“We keep on our hide-and-seek game, Lily, but with less and tinier players.”

Bilbo whispered to his sister-in-law, tilting his head to the shrubbery. They had cursed Hazel for her choice of route while coming, and now the huge rabbit seemed to be choosing even tighter paths. Seemingly she had convinced Beorn that it would not be wise to follow her trail.

A ruffling in the lower leaves showed someone had already followed Hazel’s directions. The remaining fugitives and rescuers didn’t tarry long, slipping down under the brushes as if it were a slide, Fíli embraced by Lily, with his eyes tightly shut, as if to bury a frightful memory. Frérin was smart enough to push Knee’s arm up high above their heads so Orcrist would not pierce anyone by accident. They chose Lyn and Firc to go right after Kim and the rabbit and themselves to be the last ones of the group, so as to watch the rear-guard while the others slid under the bushes, as if half grown dwelves were better leaders than adult hobbits and dwarrowdams. Actually, it was not a matter of age, but of knowing the lay of the land and of having any experience in the surroundings, which the visitors obviously had not.

After half a mile the ground levelled a bit and the slide slowed down to a halt, still under tussocks and saplings. Lily wanted not to think what Ellen would say about the wretched state of her clothes, but then she had to remember she was no more a misbehaved child who just happened to destroy her clothes playing in the yard, but a young shieldmaiden determined to save her kin from torture and death.

“Argh, Aunty will kill us!”

Lily had to supress a chuckle at Iris whispered affirmation. At least she was not the only one worrying about the same thing.

“Again!”

“Shh, Kim, we can’t slide again, we’re still escaping the goblins!”

“Oh…”

The little girl’s disappointment at her sister’s hushed scolding was almost funny, if they just weren’t still at risk of getting caught.

“They cannot be very close, Orcrist isn’t glowing.” Stated Knee, wiping the blade with a large leaf, removing stains of black blood. Lily didn’t want to think how they got there, but they were in a fight, anyway. Some things were expected.

“Nor Sting, by the way.” Said Bilbo, cleansing his _letter-opener_ like Knee before sheathing it. He knew the blade would not rust, but the reek of that foul blood would do no good inside the scabbard.

“Then _Kee_ can go again?”

Knee facepalmed at his sister’s innocent try, as there was no way to grant her request.

“No, Kim, not this time. But when we get rid of the goblins and winter comes, we shall slide on the snow, if Mama lets us, right?”

The youngster pursed her lips and crossed her arms, thwarted, but nodded anyway.

“Aye, _nadad_.”

“I believe we can have a bit of a rest. Mister Ferumbras, _nadad_ , _namad_ , are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Fíli just nodded at Knee’s two questions, burying his face in Lily’s chest as if she were the safest place in the world. Frérin had pulled out his waterskin as soon as his brother mentioned ‘ _a bit of rest_ ’ and was drooping the bottleneck into Lyn’s mouth, using spilled drops to cleanse her face, while Firc looked into her own pockets for some _cram_ and whatever Dibur and Difur stole from the kitchens. Lily and Iris made Fíli to eat and drink, while Paladin and Bilbo were trying to feed their cousin.

“I can’t.”

Ferumbras whispered.

“You must.”

Paladin insisted.

“It… my leg hurts too much. I can’t’.”

Ferumbras hid his face in his hands, swallowing a sob. His bad leg was limp, as if it were a piece of meat an inattentive butcher had dropped there. Bilbo realized how bad it was when Hazel came closer and sniffed it, and started to knead it with her front paws like a cat. It was not natural. Not that a rabbit that size was natural, either, but Bilbo was more than certain his cousin’s case was severe.

“Ferum… listen to me.” Bilbo cupped his cousin’s face in his hands, trying to be the most persuasive he could. “If you don’t drink some water and don’t eat a least a bit of _cram_ , Lady Aredhel will be very very upset that she has gone through all that trouble for you to give up without a fight, and Lady Aredhel is not someone I would willingly upset, is she?”

“You’d better not…”

“So, drink it here, right?”

“Bilbo…” There were visible tears in Ferumbras cheeks as he pushed the waterskin away from his face. “I don’t care.”

“You…don’t…” Bilbo was dismayed at first, but then his Took side spoke louder. “Ferumbras III, son of Fortinbras II, you don’t dare not to care when there are so many people who care about you and your stupid life! I don’t care what Lalia the Fat (1) has made you into, you are still a Took, and the Tooks will always…”

“I know, I know, _w_ _e may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees_ , that’s what the Old Took said when the orcs crossed the Brandywine in the Fell Winter, but come on, take a good look at this wreckage of a hobbit and say if I’m of the stuff of legend like your grandfather?” Ferumbras dared Bilbo, not even caring about the tears that flew openly down his eyes. “Take a compassionate look at me and say, Bilbo Baggins, if I have any reason to stand?”

Bilbo closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, pondering everything his cousin said. Images of their journey from the Shire to Rivendell and then to the crossing of the Misty Mountains flashed like Iris told him a movie was like. The imaginary image of Aredhel reaching Erebor without Nellas hit him hard, too. The smile of Ferumbras when he said he would be staying by the royal kids during the Battle of the Wheat Fields due to his leg problem sparkled, too. How much the young Durins played with his cousin and the amount of laughter he used to hear when reaching the Queen’s gardens in the balcony to look for his cousin, who surely was sparing his bad leg as much as possible then?

“Yes, I can see it.” Bilbo said at last, with a sigh. “But I’ll ask you too, Ferumbras, if you can look around you…” And he weaved his hand to those younglings who obviously weren’t giving up. “… and tell me if you have a reason _not to_.”

“I… so much pain…”

“The pain won’t give way if you give up.” Paladin insisted on his older cousin. Ferumbras just avoided his eyes, looking to his side, and the younger hobbit almost lost his temper. “Ferumbras, for goodness sake, we didn’t fool Óin and the ward at the Gates, nor did the younglings fool a lot of people for you to whimper yourself to death! Do you think it is fair that Kim is out of bed this hour of the night to help rescue you and you don’t even take a sip of water when we’re almost safe?”

As if to illustrate Paladin’s angry statements, the younger of Durin’s heirs came with a piece of peanut chikki in her chubby fingers and stuffed it into Ferumbras’ mouth.

“No, I _mfff_!”

“Peanut is good, _make_ _mi’ter_ Ferumbras _st’ong_ to walk!”

With the satisfied smile of someone who made what had to be done, Kim turned her back to him and strolled over to Fíli with another piece of her medicine for weakness in hand. Bilbo uplifted the corner of his mouth, amused.

“Well, this settles it.” Paladin pulled out the cork of his own waterskin and Bilbo thrust it into Ferumbras’ mouth, helping the chikki down with the water. “Sometimes one only has to be hard-headed like a dwarf instead of verbose like a hobbit to achieve things, it seems.”

“ _Mrrfgh_ , Bilbo!” Cursed Ferumbras when his mouth was finally empty. “This is not what a gentlehobbit does…”

“Sorry, I forgot how to be a gentlehobbit when I left Bag End in the wake of a company of mannerless dwarves.” Stated Bilbo, stuffing some cram in his cousin’s mouth. “But it kept me alive and several ones whom I care for.” _Although not all of them_ , a sad voice in his mind insisted to remind him.

This time Ferumbras chewed without complaining.

Iris came closer, looking worried, a nervous hand on the pommel of one of her twin swords.

“Bilbo, I think we should be moving. Even if Radagast and Beorn distract them…”

“Ferumbras is not exactly in shape, Iris.”

She rolled her eyes.

“We’ll all be mincemeat shape if they catch us, Bilbo.” She turned to their cousin. “Are you able to stand up? Lily can carry you.”

Ferumbras looked up at her, and then back at Bilbo.

“Maybe we can bind my leg so it doesn’t bounce…?”

Bilbo opened his eyes wide.

“Are you sure?”

“No.” Ferumbras tried to prop himself up using a nearby bush to support him. “But I’ll try it anyway.” His eyes landed on Kim, who currently dripped water on her hand so Hazel could drink it. “It would be unfair not to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Lalia the Fat, or Lalia the Great, Ferumbras III’s mother. It is said that Ferumbras III never took a wife because no one was willing to share a house with Lalia. This humble fanfic author has other ideas, that will be made clear in due time.  
> (2) Meneltarma – the holly mountain the centre of Númenor, devoted to Erú Ilúvatar


	83. Flight

"Hah, you can’t catch me!"

Radagast made his umpteenth run across the goblin camp, teasing the creatures that still were able to move despite the massive forest fauna attack, grabbing the handle bar with one hand and his staff with the other, deftly knocking down anyone who happened to be in his reach. But he was noticing it was time for a change of tactics, because his furry friends were getting tired and would not be able to keep the goblins busy for long.

Every goblin had its own share of claws and fangs, but they also inflicted several casualties. An unconscious squirrel was being dragged out of the battlefield by a groundhog; a genet had its pelt burnt when thrown at a fire pit and rolled on the ground to put out the fire, helped by a couple of hares that threw dirt on the genet with their paws; a young wolf whimpered because of a lost ear and a deer would go home missing half of its antlers. A raccoon had an ugly gash where once his left eye had been.

"Kill that miserable cougar!"

"And stop that pigeon now!"

Said cougar felled several enemies with feline precision and said pigeon blinded a fair share with its talons. A group of foxes assaulted as a team, and flocks of accentors attacked like clouds of avenge.

The brown wizard whistled in his free hand like a bird of prey, and the response was immediate.

"By the Great Goblin’s dewlap!"

In a few seconds, this was all the goblins had to exclaim. The camp was deserted, but by their own casualties and trampled fires and provisions. The whoosh had disappeared somewhere southwest, uphill, leaving most goblins with no clue to what started it and how it ended.

"Get your wrecked arses up and working!" Shout Burzg, nonconformist to the recent defeat. "Bring the prisoners back! None came this far to go back empty-handed!"

"We had substantial losses, General Burzg. No bunch is whole, and you know it is with working different bunches…"

"Shut up, Krod!" Jojar protested, tilting his bat-nose up to the large sergeant. "Our General Burzg said to bring the prisoners back, and to bring the prisoners back you will!"

Jojar expected his angry words could have any result, preferably to strengthen his influence on Burzg’s subjects and his own hold on his General, but he didn’t consider what actually came out of it.

"Jojar is right." Burzg almost spat. "He’s so right he must have the right to lead the hunt for the runaway prisoners." The bone-plated goblin turned around to choose his minions. "Krod, Akh, Rhor, and anyone of yours capable to run a mile, follow sergeant Jojar and bring the prisoners back, and anyone who helped them to escape. The remaining, make this a place worth a goblin camp. Now!"

Probably the mess made by Radagast and his friends had turned the camp into a place more habitable than before, so the goblins who stayed behind didn’t have much to do but to carry the corpses of their fallen companions in a row and wait for what would be decided about their fate. A large meal was not unthinkable.

When the four sergeants gathered what was left of their respective bunches, the resulting group counted over forty members, most of them unscathed but for mild scratches and bites. Jojar wasn’t happy with the idea of going after fugitives who included a gigantic bear, but to turn back would be awful for his reputation, and the whole cause of coming in this accursed expedition was to gain reputation and have more in Goblin Town than a few dozen slaves. He wanted to have hundreds of slaves, and he would fight for it.

 

000ooo000

 

The distance changed the flight from a run to a steady walk and the weariness turned it into a trudge through the forest, all of them dragging their own limbs step after step. Ferumbras felt guilty for being carried now by Lily, now between Bilbo and Paladin, or Knee and Frérin. Kim insisted in carrying the pregnant rabbit, but the dwelfling was so tiny it was too great an effort and Iris carried Hazel like a baby most of the time, paws on her shoulder. The thicket had given place to a sparse boskage, but it was the shorter way to the next sheltered patch.

"We should have kept the scooters."

Firc complained softly, not daring to raise her voice even that far from the goblin camp. Frérin replied in the same guarded tone.

"It wouldn’t work, they were jamming in the ground, remember?"

"Aye." She sighed. "We should devise scooters that can run on the forest ground, then."

"They’ve been devised already, and they’re called _sleighs_."

"Then why didn’t we steal sleighs instead of scooters?"

"We didn’t _steal_ , we just _borrowed_ …"

"Shhh!"

Knee’s hushing was accompanied by a raised hand and an alarmed look in his face. Bilbo, Iris and Lily, the girls just four years away from their adventure with the company of Thorin Oakenshield, had sensed something wrong, too. Paladin nocked an arrow to his bow and looked around in anticipation.

Bilbo looked at his scabbard and the bluish glow of Sting in it left no doubts, like that first time in the goblin porch. With a nod to Knee, he withdrawed the slender blade in the same swift movement the dwelf used to take Orcrist from its shoulder scabbard. Some nods and looks were enough for the younger ones and Ferumbras to be put in the middle of a small circle. Rori charged his slingshot with a stone from his pocket and tried to find a gap between the various sets of legs around him.

Several tense minutes passed. Nothing happened.

A barn owl flew nearby, chasing a mouse or some other little thing in the undergrowth.

They breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed their guard.

"All right, on we go." Whispered Knee. "In perfect silence this time."

They weary feet carried them to the next clump of trees, and from there to a thicket. The hope was that it would cover them for several miles yet, and maybe Beorn would be able to find them and cover their backs. Iris was spent, as she already walked to and from Erebor to the picnic site before joining the rescue party, and Kim was almost sleeping on her feet. Frérin was carrying her like a turtle shell on his back, and Hazel was asleep in Firc’s arms.

A sudden bustle in undergrowth was the only sign they had before being surrounded by Jojar’s patrol.

" _Du bekar_!"

Knee shouted with all his lungs, unsheathing Orcrist with a swift movement. The goblins were too close for ranged weapons, but Paladin made his stand all the same, as well as Rori; Lily chose her sword instead of the bow, feeling comfortable with the weight of Thorin’s workmanship in her hands. But the enemies were too many, surpassing them by four to one. And they knew what they were after.

"The Bane is here! Get The Bane!"

For experienced warriors, like Dwalin, it would not be too hard a struggle, but the Durins and their young friends had no practice out of the training arena inside the Mountain, and this was not even true for Kim and Rori. Fíli smuggled himself into training with Uncle Dwalin once in a while, but his deceased Uncle Fíli’s falchion was almost too heavy for him to handle properly, and functioned more as a defense weapon, cutting off grubby fingers that dared for him. Firc had the other falchion, and made a good job beside Lyn, who took on Borin’s warhammer. She had been through suffering enough that day to have no mercy on the goblins, and hit them with gusto, taking advantage of the extra momentum the long handle lent her, shouting the justice she delivered.

"This is for Mister Badri! And this one for Mister Zindrin!"

Bilbo glued himself to Iris as soon as he noticed the goblins had recognized her, and his soul struggled between using the Ring to be invisible and more able to fight or to give up that _present_ to protect her, giving it to Iris to use it and become invisible. He _knew_ she was a better fighter than him, he _admitted_ she had more stuff of legend than him, but after all the talk earlier that day, would it be right to risk the Ring to be lost while handling it to her? If the goblins or any being they were related to took notice, it could soon be spread until it reached the Dark Lord’s ears, and they’d be doomed. No, it was better to keep the Ring to himself, it was only logical.

"They’re too many!"

Shouted Frérin, putting Thráin I’s war axe to good use.

"Doesn’t matter, hit on!"

Knee answered, slashing around with Orcrist. Most goblins were not huge as orcs, but taller than the younglings anyway. The lack of experience meant lots of stabs and little result, as their hits didn’t have the full force of a grown up dwarf, and their aim was not always true. Anyway, thrusts in not vital places still made the goblins to take a step or two back, but it was only to be replaced by fresh ones while taking a breath.

"And this is for hitting my brother!"

A goblin was stumbling with a hand on his eye, precisely hit by a stone of Rori’s slingshot, and Iris’ twin swords flashed like fire. For the two sisters and Bilbo it was not the first time and, even being not exactly worn warriors, they had the background of the getaway from Goblin Town and nothing less than the Battle of Five Armies. The Battle of the Wheat Fields, a week before, had been a minor, but still a struggle against elite orcs of Gundabad. Lyn sang on her speech.

"And this is for taking my babysitter away!"

Swift and fast was Sting in Bilbo’s hands, flashing blue and spilling guts. For a moment the hobbit was happy for being not as tall as a dwarf, ducking for Lily to circle her sword with dexterity, finishing the issue with three goblins at once.

"Now I gotcha, little puppy!"

Indeed, Jojar found Kim under a bush and dragged her out, lifting her in front of him by the collar.

" _Nadaaaaaad_!"

Knee froze when heard her shrill voice and stopped for the fraction of a second, as did Frérin – both were _nadaaaaad_ when Kim was in trouble, and this was a night of very much trouble. Frérin turned the war axe above his head while running to her direction, only to be blocked by three ugly fellows, two with jagged scimitars and the other with a morningstar. Knee tried to hack his way with little more success, knocking two down in the process before being stuck in a mess too big for him to deal alone, eyes on his little sister and cramps of guilt in his entrails for having brought her along.

"Take this!"

Rori’s precise stone hit Jojar right in the temple, stunning him, and Kim took the chance to kick the goblin, well, where it hurt more; and don’t forget dwarves use to use boots with at least the toe box made out of metal, because living inside a mountain meant the risk of kicking loose rocks that weren’t there before and of having rocks falling from the ceiling when you least expect. So, to say the goblin shouted ‘ _Ouch!_ ’ would be an understatement, as Jojar more howled than shouted, and no precise wording was possible in that case. Kim escaped and hid ran to a tree, beside Rori.

Hazel used her paws to throw dirt on Jojar’s face as soon as the goblin reached the ground, and ran away to the same tree.

"They’re too many!"

This time it was Lily to state the problem, black blood dripping form her sword and red blood from her own arm. Paladin was making his best to cover them from the top of a tree, but his arrows were running low, however carefully he used them. He had stored Ferumbras some branches down from him, in a place he didn’t have to use his bad leg to hold himself in place.

"We’re many and you’re defeated!"

Akh sprung his morningstar against Lily, who deftly dodged the goblin and hit the back of his knee while rolling on the ground to a safer place, under the hazel tree that held Paladin and Ferumbras. Iris tried to get closer to her sister, but the mass of goblins moved her away from her goal. Bilbo was nowhere to be seen, but Iris took it as a good sign.

"This one is for Karit!"

Lyn wielded her warhammer once more, crushing a goblin’s elbow, and Firc stabbed another one in the middle, but her lack of experience and strenght allowed her only to perforate skin, fat and a little muscle, so it resulted in one more enraged goblin instead of one more fallen enemy.

"Kill these devils!

"Over my bloody dead body!"

Knee slashed around with a wide, sweeping stroke, keeping some of the creatures away further from the tree.

"That will be my pleasure!"

The goblin’s pleasure was cut short by Lily’s sword, and other got away howling with one eye hit by an acorn – Rori ran out of stones and was using the acorns Kim gathered earlier. Some goblins stumbled on thin air or earned mysterious cuts, especially when aiming at Iris. But their numbers were hard to diminish, and the small group of inexperienced youngsters and the handful of poorly experienced adults were already surrounded by the enemy, keeping their hurt and younger ones up in the tree.

Frérin swallowed hard and scratched an itchy place in his head, unwilling to think if it was just a stonepox scab or a bruise. Sometimes haematomas felt itchy, too, when they were big. Mister Óin explained this after an interesting training session with Uncle Dwalin. If only Uncle Dwalin were there, or at least mister Óin, it would be a relief. Frérin was sure his uncle could take care of at least a dozen goblins, and the old healer could put half of this amount down with his fighting staff. But from the almost fifty goblins who came upon them just a dozen was dead, and some more unable to fight, what still left them outnumbered by a band of outraged enemies. His older brother whispered at his side.

"Fisher."

"Doesn’t matter their jobs, we’re…"

"I’ll be the Queen." Lily whispered back, hefting her sword and studying their foes critically. "But they’ll wonder what kind of gain it was when I’m in their middle."

"I am sure."

"We’ll be the Pawns where needed."

"No, Lyn; you and Firc stay as Rooks. Our Kings are up the tree, don’t let them down"

"No chess move will get us out of this mess, they’re too many." Stated Iris, breathing hard, knowing she was elbowing someone none could see, sealing the circle around the tree. "No sacrifice will be enough; they’ll never let us go."  
"Anyway, we must try." Knee lifted Orcrist, shining in blue and scaring the goblins with its light. "Will you follow me?"

Frérin looked around and saw the fire in the eyes of dwarves and hobbits, and it shone brightly than what he saw in the eyes of the goblins.

"Certainty of death, small chance of success… What are we waiting for?"

" _Baruk Khazad_! _Khazad ai menu_!"

The fierce fighting was unfair, and the chess strategy was not working as they expected, even if Lily was giving the goblins more trouble than they wished for. The sword Thorin forged for her was sharp and accurate, but it was only one. Paladin worked with Lily’s arrows now that his own were spent, but the difference in length baffled him and there was no time to adjust the aim. Several arrows were lost, but keeping the goblins at bay was more important in the first instance than to actually hit them. Keeping them confused helped the ones on the ground to make their stand, and to it Rori was excelling, sending acorns through the air as tiny missiles in every possible direction. When the acorns were spent, he started to use hazelnuts from the tree they were up, Kim gathering them and Rori shooting. Fíli used his deceased uncle’s sword to pierce any hand that tried to take hold of the lower branches.

Bob Fisher’s chess tactic of sacrificing the Queen to win the game was just an inspiration, and what they actually did was to use Lily to divide the goblin’s attention. Bilbo was visibly helping her, or rather, invisibly. Lyn and Firc were being pressed against the tree trunk, despite Iris flashing her swords and the Durin brothers fighting like berserk badgers. But it was not enough. If the goblins didn’t want them alive, their goal would have been achieved already.

Even Lily was pressed against the tree now, grubby fingers trying to take hold and to disarm her; Knee showed an angry bruise on his chin and used his own body to shield an exhausted Lyn; Firc supported her best friend with one arm while stabbing any goblin limb that got closer with the other, but the falchion was heavy for her to use it one-handed. After all, they were just youngsters, tired ones, and hopeless.

" _Fee_ , the ugly _gob’ins_ will catch us and make _boo-boo_!"

"We’ll find a way, Kim, Knee will find a way!"

Fíli tried to soothe his sister’s fears and to build up his own hope with those words. But the little one was beyond being fooled and pleaded to whom any child would resort.

" _Kee_ want my Mama!"

 


	84. All that is Silver Does Not Glitter

The sound of hooves went unheard under the uproar of the angry goblins, sure as they were that their goal was almost to be achieved. But the battle axe had a blade with an edge that could not be ignored, at least not by the goblins of the outer circle that got it in their necks first. A finely engraved blade-mace was put to good use too, one of the ancient days before the coming of Smaug, the embroidery on the velvet of the surcoat matching the design on the blade. A heavy staff used its momentum to knock down one creature after another. One bola set was enough to prevent a couple of goblins to flee from the place, and a well-used spear finished both.

The ant nest was stirred up, allowing the fugitives to breathe again.

“ _Unc’a Ba_!!’

The joy in the dwelfling’s voice when she saw her older uncle was as enormous as the relief the others felt. Only they were too much occupied trying not to get caught and defending the littlest ones to shout their joy too.

“You don’t dare to touch my grandchildren, filth!”

Dís wielded her axe with the same ease her brother used to, making room in the outer circle of goblins to reach said grandchildren closer to the tree. Dori noticed a goblin being hit by a hazelnut and turned his eyes wildly to the opposite direction. It was not the first time he saw a slingshot being used that deftly

“Rori son of Ori, I know you’re here and I will personally tell your mother!” Another hazelnut stunned a nearby goblin and Dori completed. “And I’ll be proud of doing it!”

Ulfir was doing a good job with his sword while his brother-in-law stabbed a spear into yet another greenish fellow. Gwendolin followed close behind, handling out stabs of her long knives to anything able to survive the dark-skinned man.

“Silver is too tall, I’ll get down!” She shouted so Ulfir and Kharim would know her next move. Her knives were best suited for close range fight, what Aredhel mostly taught her, and even being a good rider being on Silver wasn’t really helping in the fight.

“No, get the little ones!”

Then she realized her place was not necessarily that of a warrior, as the others were more suited to it, but she could help in the rescuing itself and still be able to protect the rescued ones from being caught again. The numbers of the goblins were getting down, anyway. She leant down and spoke lightly in the horse’s ear, at the same time her knees sent the beast directions.

“Silver, to the tree! Get Kim!”

Gwendolin’s knives were outstretched on both sides, daring any goblin to get closer as she rushed forward in the middle of the struggle. The experienced blows Balin distributed freely were quite a sight, and Óin’s technique of knocking his enemies down made a corridor to be followed easily. Dís was now beside her two older grandchildren, and one who knew that family could see those three move with the same grace once seen in Thorin Oakenshield along with Fíli and Kíli.

Paladin delivered Kim and Hazel to the blonde woman, who took the chance to stab one or two goblins in the process.

“I can carry one more, at least!”

“Take Ferumbras!”

Paladin pleaded, worried about his older cousin, who clung to the tree trunk as if it were his own soul, lame leg pendant like a chunk of spasming meat.

“Can you come down?”

Her intensive training with Aredhel made her duck in the right time to avoid a nasty blow of a large goblin. Kharim traversed said goblin’s neck with his spear and helped the hurt hobbit down the branch, placing him behind the woman so he could hold to her easily while the girl and the rabbit were on her lap.

“Fly back to the Mountain, can you?”

“I’m not sure of the direction!”

“Silver will know the way, go!”

“No! Sissy! _Namad_!”

Kim went nuts on the idea of leaving Lyn behind, as the young dwelf was spent against the tree trunk, leaning on Borin’s war hammer with both hands. Firc was beside her, ready to stab anything that got in reach.

“Kharim, take the girls!”  
            Ulfir was down of his horse in no moment and all but threw Firc and Lyn in front of the chief stableman. Their weapons were cumbersome, but to leave them behind was no good idea – they could be of use yet, and to risk the chance of having them found and used by goblins or other kind of enemy was not an option.

“Handle me the bairns down, they come with me.”

The man reached out for Fíli and Rori, both happy for being got out of the struggle. Paladin worried for himself now and almost threw himself at Ulfir.

“I’m out of arrows!”

“Then you won’t weight too much, I presume…”

How Ulfir still found a place to joke in the middle of that, Paladin didn’t figure, but he was happy to be seated on the big mare of the man as they diverted from the squirmish.

“What of the others?”

“They’re almost done with that filth; they’ll catch up with us soon.”

With a knot in his throat, Paladin looked around and assessed the situation. More than half of the goblin patrol was down, either dead or unable to fight, and now, with the professional reinforcement, the situation was getting even worse for the invaders. He could see how Balin took charge along Dís, coordinating their small group in two yet smaller ones, each one with two experienced warriors and some of the younger people. Bilbo was nowhere he could see.

Abstracted as he was with the sight of the little battle field, an angry cry from Ulfir startled Paladin, who turned just in time to see a goblin fall pierced by the tall man’s sword.

“That one won’t sneak at none’s back anymore!”

There were just a dozen goblins now, some frightened enough to consider fleeing rather than fighting.

“Krod! Akh! Come back, your miserable cowards!”

The bat-nosed goblin shouted at his colleagues, who hurried one to each direction.

“Rather a living coward than a dead hero!”

“The Bane brought her bane to us all! Die as you wish, we’re all doomed!”

The reasonable argumentation of the two sergeants was enough to bring more followers to their case, which means, more goblins ready to give any glory up for the sake of simple survival. Unfortunately, Akh fell down on his steps with his throat open and spilling out black blood, with no ostensible foe to be blamed.

“Doomed if we go, doomed if we stay!”

Stated one of the smaller goblins, running back to the fray in despair. Knee just thrust Orcrist into the creature’s chest with an expression of disgust. Óin yanked the creature away with a stab of his staff and patted the youngster’s shoulder, knowingly. His next movement sent one goblin down with a broken skull and another one to the fleeing team.

Iris took advantage of her recent upgrade in terrifying enemies and paired with Lily into putting a couple of the remaining ones down. Balin had finished one more, as well as Dori, and the remaining one was Dís’ prize.

“No one messes with my grandchildren!”

The groans and grunts and the smell of blood and entrails of the moribund goblins were disgusting, but more disgusting was the idea that it could have been one of them. Now they had to catch up with the ones who already got away, but first...

“Where is Bilbo?”

Dís asked while looking around, searching in the mess of corpses and black blood. Had she been too much optimistic assuming none of them had fallen?

“Coming.”

The hobbit just came out of a larger bush beside the hazelnut tree. Sting still dripped black blood, making it undisputable that he had been in the fray.

“Mahal be praised, for a moment I thought we had lost you!”

Bilbo looked deep in the sapphire blue eyes of the dwarrowdam and gave half a smile.

“Your brother made the same mistake once. Looks like we hobbits are more resilient to getting lost than you Durins assume us to be.”

Dís bowed her head, respectfully.

“It makes me happy to have you in our family through my Little Daughter, Mister Baggins. But you’d have my deference just for having put up with my brother.”

Bilbo turned his eyes down, the old scar in his heart still too fresh. A squeeze of their hands sealed what went unsaid.

“Watch out!”

Dís turned around just in time to see one of the larger goblins have his forehead bifurcated by a battle axe and collapse like a sack of potatoes. A trembling dwelfling was at her side, hands still glued to the handle of said axe as he watched the treacherous goblin’s ruckles that lasted just some moments. But for the length of the handle it would not have reached the target, and maybe only enrage the goblin even more.

“Frérin…”

Kíli’s blue-eyed copycat trembled in his grandmother’s arms.

“Can we… go home, _Umad_?”

Dís wiped Frérin’s unruly hair from his brow as she always did to Kíli since forever.

“We will, _kurdu_ , we will do it now…”

* * *

 

Frérin was not really able to be with anyone else than his grandmother when they left the little battlefield around the hazelnut tree. The dwarrowdam fixed a stray hair strand thinking how much silver she would get in it out of that night. Then she thought it selfish, considering how many silver strands his brother had earned because of her sons.

            “Here, _kurdu_ , just hold on.”

            Dís mounted her pony with ease, observing the others as they adjusted their lifts as possible. From the children, it was only Frérin and Knee left; Frérin would ride with her and Knee with Óin. Not that it would be possible to do much while riding, but Óin wanted to see the youngling’s chin even while moving, as it was swelling really bad. Lily was with Balin, her arm bandaged as much as it could in the few minutes they allowed themselves to linger, and the couple of Halflings rode with Dori, at least for the while. If they rode swiftly they could reach the other ones and ride together, it would be safer – who knew if there were more goblin patrols in their search?


	85. Surprises for the King

The ponies of the greybeards trotted swiftly, leaving behind the ugly scene of goblin corpses. Opportunely, something would have to be done to cleanse the forest of that filth, even if it took some wood to start a bonfire. None deserved the reek of decomposing goblin, not even the beasts of the forest. Dís had this in mind when Frérin upturned his blue eyes to the matriarch.

“How did you find us?”

“Well, I thought it was my place to ask you how all of you got out of Erebor, but I guess others will be curious about it too and you’ll have the chance to tell your tale more than once…”

The youngling lowered his head, seemingly ashamed.

“Sorry, _Umad_ …”

“Oh, that you’ll be in due time, don’t worry!”

His eyes grew wide with the thought of dusting the whole library, but she chuckled.

“Don’t worry, little bear, nothing worse will come out of this than already came.” She caressed his unruly hair for a while, comforting him, as they trotted on the dead leaves of early winter. “We found out you three escaped the Healing House and then that your little sister was missing along all other members of the proud Young Company. Some were found before we left, Mahal be praised. Someone drew some markings on the Council Room wall map, and we saw them when we decided to close the gates, so we deduced the hunting area and decided for the hills, because the goblins would need some kind of hiding from the sun, and there are some small caves, you know.”

Dís looked ahead in search of marks from the others’ horses.

“We met Gwendolin and the others near the goblins’ trail, fortunately after they found and disarmed a trap those filthy monsters set. They found some kind of warning, I don’t know exactly what, didn’t have time or mind to ask. Then we followed the trail of trampling and messing the goblins left, and the rest you know already.”

Frérin leaned a bit closer to her, seeking the known feeling of safeness he always felt beside Dís.

“We would be lost if it weren’t for you.”

“Probably.” Dís didn’t want to think about it, as if thinking would allow some bad thing to happen. “But I’d have at least a nasty cut in my throat if it weren’t for you, and your siblings would be in a lot more of trouble, it seems.”

“Aye.” Frérin tried to shake off the bad feeling that his grandmother could not be alive if he didn’t see the goblin move. In his mind, it was the first time in his life that a decision of his own, solely his, taken in the heat of the moment, made a difference in someone’s life. Of course he didn’t count all the times he put himself in front of someone he loved to take the harder blow, physical or not. Having Knee landing on him in the library was only one example. “There was a stone slide, if it weren’t for Knee, Mister Bilbo and Lily rescuing them, they’d be stoned. And then there was Mister Radagast and Beorn and the North-Easterlingas.”

“It was a long night, with lots of people willing to help, Durin bless them.” She noticed some forms ahead and smiled. “Ah, there they are. Let us see how the others are.”

 

000ooo000

 

“Whoa, Apple, whoa…”

“Why are we stopping?” Gwendolin asked Ulfir, still afraid of finding more goblins in the forest.

“Fíli is not very well and I want to take a look at Lyn, too.” He said, dismounting his mare. Kharim stopped and dismounted too, pulling the girls down carefully.

“What is wrong with my brother?” Lyn all but whined.

“This is what I want to find out, little raven.”

The use of that personal endearment made her finally burst into tears while Ulfir sat Fíli on the ground and observed some reactions, like strength in grabbing the man’s fingers and coordination of his own small hands and arms. Whilst the captain of the guard was at it, Kharim took out a water bottle and offered it to the others. Firc used her own water the wash her friend’s face of grime, helped by Liao Wang, which licked her hands. Gwendolin tried to ignore that his muzzle was black with goblin blood and his attempt to cleanse the dwelf’s hands was actually sullying her even more.

“’Ma just tired…”

“How many fingers do I have here?” Asked Ulfir, with two fingers up in front of Fíli’s face.”

“Five.”

“Are you sure?”

“Two outstretched and three bent down.”

The man heaved a sigh, relieved. He didn’t know very much about head injuries, but Óin made him repeat so many times that kind of test that he was turning into an expert.

“Can I sleep now?” Fíli’s hazel eyes were almost closing on their own. Rori was supporting him, trying and failing miserably to hide a yawn.

“Drink some water and we can go.”

The dwelfling gulped some water down while Ulfir checked Lyn’s face. Her right eye was almost closed and the whole side of her face was swelled up, showing angry bruises and a deep scratch that oozed yellowish water.

“Kharim, do we have any salve?”

“Just the standard patrol pack, nothing more.”

“At least some clean cloth, then.”

He took the supplies bag and withdrew the blanket placed in the bottom. A deft cut sliced a strip of fabric, which he bound around the girl’s face.

“So. Not very pretty, but will keep it clean until we reach Erebor.” He turned to Kharim. “If you see some comfrey or horsetail while we ride, warn me!”

Kharim was taking the girls back to his horse and Gwendolin asked, curious.

“Do we have a healer in the ward?”

Ulfir smiled, a bit skimpy.

“My father was a ranger; I learned a thing or two with him.”

Gwendolin remembered Ulfar was mentioned as a ranger, but didn’t really catch what it meant. She thought only Aragorn had healing prowess, but then it was only natural that everyone who spends long time in the wild must have some herb knowledge.

Paladin was trying to find a better place on Apple to hold on Ulfir’s shoulders when they heard a soft sound of hooves.

“We run?” The woman asked in worried a whisper.

“No!” The royal ward smiled. “Goblins don’t ride; no horse or pony would allow that filth to mount them. It must either be Lady Dís and the others or those who came from Dale.”

“Or Ellen, maybe?” Suggested Gwendolin. She knew the elf would take part in the search for her own children, nothing would hold her back.

“It’s a small group.” Mentioned Kharim, knowing how hooves sounded. “Both the Queen and the Kings would come with a larger cavalry. It must be Lady Dís.”

Silver neighed with confidence, sidestepping as if to greet the coming ponies. Even if it weren’t Dís, it would be someone acquainted to the grey horse. Not many minutes passed until four ponies came into sight.

“Well met again, son of Ulfar!” Greeted the princess with a smile of relief.

“Milady.” Answered the ward, with a bow of his head.

Her eyes darted to Lyn and her bandaged face.

“Sweet Mahal, what did they do to you, _kurdith_?”

The girl looked down as if it were her own fault. Ferumbras quickly reached for her shoulders with the arm he wasn’t using to support himself against the horse.

“They shove her into a tree trunk; your granddaughter is very brave, madam.”

Dís was already off the pony and holding the dwelf in her arms, caressing her long and dishevelled hair.

“She is a daughter of Durin; she will not be so easily broken.” Lyn leaned against Dís’ breast, the best comfort she could have under the circumstances. “Óin, please take a look at this warrior princess here.” She looked around, inspecting the ones who left with the humans for any sign of injury.

Óin was already at work, rebinding Lily’s arm with some herbs to avoid infection; Bilbo had a trampled foot that could need some immobilization and ice, but it would have to wait for Erebor, as well as Balin’s shoulder sprain – he wasn’t a dwarfling anymore, and for more that he denied any problem it was obvious how much he was sparing his left arm.

“Aye, aye, we’ll see to this little lady in a jiffy.”

Dís nodded and looked at the tiny figure sitting on the ground, supported by Rori and now a fussing Dori.

“Fíli?”

The boy looked up at her voice, sleepy eyes showing how much he was spent. For a fleeting moment she saw the same look her own Fíli wore after the first night of patrol he had with an orc raid. It was not just lack of sleep, it was the tiredness of seeing things he was too young to see, things no one should ever have to see. She knelt down at his side and cradled his head to her lap, while Lyn was tended, ointed and rebound by Óin.

“My brave _kuzdith_ …”

Fíli closed his eyes at his grandmother’s caress, frowning.

“I was not brave. I feared. I didn’t fight. I put mister Leri at risk. I was _pathetic_.”

His last words were nothing but a whisper in Dís’ hair, and the matriarch winced at the pain in the youngling’s voice.

“You were as brave as you could be, _kurdu_. None can claim you did less than your due, my little lion.”

“But they took mister Leri away, and we don’t… we don’t know…”

His whisper was replaced by a low wail, by an anguish no caress could quench. Dís couldn’t ignore the tears on Ferumbras’ cheeks, nearby, and wished she could reach for the hobbit and hold him in her arms too. And it was at him that her eyes were set as she spoke.

“Fíli, we… we don’t know, yet… but we will. Mister Leri is… a very brave dwarf. He may not be very used to axes and swords, but… he is capable of facing things no average dwarf would. If he has to face death to save the ones he loves, he will. But if he can spare himself so the ones he loves won’t suffer, this will be his first choice. Don’t give up hope yet, _kurdu_. Don’t give up hope.”

“Dís, the ones who need it right now are mended, so I believe it is time to go. The longer we linger, the riskier.”

“Aye, Óin.” She nodded to her cousin, tired eyes on the small group. “If we hurry we may reach Erebor before sunrise.” A sweeping gesture beckoned the remaining ones, and off they got.

 

000ooo000

 

Bard was finding it a little more extenuating to follow the dwarf king in his wrath to find his bairns than his own bones liked it, but didn’t regret his choice of keeping in the hunting party instead of retreating with the wounded ones and the ones who would guard and tend them, like the twins from Rivendel. He remembered the band of wet and tired dwarves that reached Lake Town when he was on guard at the gates, and the beardless archer with them. Kingship had fallen heavily on the two of them, him as descendant of Girion unused to the subtleties of politics and Kíli grieving both his uncle and brother, who were before him in the line to the throne. To rule was a novelty on them both, then, a hard novelty, and many a time one sought for the support of the other. So it had been in those early days after the demise of Smaug, and a friendship beyond that of neighbours developed. He would follow Kíli into Mordor if demanded.

Not that his lungs agreed, of course.

“Halt!”

Bard didn’t know who put Gandalf on charge of the hunt, but he was glad for it when the wizard lifted his commanding hand.

“I will not waste time with halts when…” Started to complain Kíli, when the sound of hooves was heard. “Who…”

“Kíli!” An angry voice greeted him. “Why are you on foot? It will take forever for you to reach home!”

“I know, Amad, but we took a shortcut and…” He was automatically explaining himself when it downed on him. “Amad, what are you doing here?” His gaze went from horse to horse, figuring out the unbelievable of what he saw. “And Frérin? Knee?”

He ran to his older sons who just dismounted and embraced them tightly.

“Hello, Little Brother, it’s a joy to see you too!”

Greeted him Iris, hopping down from the pony like many others were doing. Too many for Kíli’s sanity.

“Fíli… Lyn…”

He knelt to embrace his treasures as if life depended on his hold, and his tears ran freely down his cheeks, wetting the faces of the children and his own beard. His heart seemed to explode in his chest, of relief of having them safe and confusion on having his older sons there too, along with a lot that wasn’t supposed to be outside the Mountain.

“Dada!”

The fierce hug of tiny arms around his neck accompanied a shrill voice that gave him goosebumps of realization.

“Kim?” His eyes opened wide as saucers as he looked at his younger one, touching her tiny face with trembling fingers, incredulous. “What are you doing here, kitty?”

“ _Kee_ kicked a _gob’in_ where it hurts, Dada!” Was her proud answer.

Kíli shook his head in bewilderment.

“What, in Durin’s name, is happening here?” He found the healer amongst the newcomers. “Óin, why did you release Lily and my sons from your care?”

Óin looked sideways into his ear trumpet, shaking it as if to dislodge a hedgehog from it, ignoring Kíli completely.

“And what are _you_ doing here, Mister and Mistress Baggins, after all that was spoken today!” Raged Gandalf, brows like catterpillars discussing who should cocoon first.

Bilbo stepped forward, pulling his watch out his pocket as if considering if it was the right time for tea.

“As a matter of fact, it can be counted as yesterday and…”

“Adad, we don’t know if there are goblins left in their camp.” Intervened Knee. “The patrol we just escaped looked far less than the ones we left behind after the stone slide. And we don’t know what happened to Mister Leri, Lyn said they took him away several hours ago.”

Kíli couldn’t be more proud of his firstborn, even if his head still seemed to spin. It was not the time to talk about what should or should not have been, not if there was yet one enemy left in his land.

“Lady Ellen is on the hunt, too. I suppose she might be near.” Offered Gwendolin, a bit ashamed of having withheld the information from Dís when they met in the royal dwelling.

Kíli closed his eyes, trying to make a wise decision in a hurry. Of course his heart was with his children, but he could not mention them as his main concern. No king should. But a bit of good news he was able to deliver.

“Mister Leri is on his way to Erebor, along with the injured ones. He is not severely injured, but to be treated like a sack of potatoes surely gave him one or another bruise.” The relief of his children at the news was visible, but the gasp of solace the visiting hobbit sent out was priceless. He glanced back at Gandalf, Bard and the elf leaders present. “How many can be spared to escort this group to Erebor?”

Balin took it on himself.

“Give us just a good dozen, we’re almost there.”

“And our horses must be nearby, too, it will lend us speed.” Hoped Bard, working to regain his breath.

“A dozen be it, then.” Agreed Kíli, albeit his own heart wanted to escort his bairns back home personally. But there were goblins wandering free in his lands, and his wife was out there chasing them. “Choose those who suit you.”

“Aye.” Balin bowed as much as his aching back allowed. “Just my brother and whoever else are willing to go.” The elderly dwarf looked around, searching, when a frown gained his brow. “By the way, where is my brother?”

Legolas put a hand on Balin’s shoulder and answered.

“He’s gone back with the injured ones. No!” He added quickly. “He is not one of them, but insisted in accompanying Lady Aredhel. She was severely lacerated.”

“I’m sorry, laddie.” Balin tapped the elf’s hand. “She’ll be safe with my brother around, I assure you.”

Legolas wasn’t quite sure of what those words meant, but deemed it better not to dwell too much on it.

“I’m willing to escort them.” Offered Tauriel, steel in her eyes, roiled by the idea of goblins putting their grubby hands on those younglings. Her heart was enraged by the idea of someone grabbing innocent children, be they dwarves, dwelves of elves. She had been a guardian to her people for a long time, a captain of the guard with a mind set to protect them all, but something different was stirring inside the auburn haired elf, just some short years away from wedding Legolas and everything it meant. None touched children. No one. “If perchance there are other patrols, I’d be happy to greet them properly.”

“Nori, you come with us?” Half asked, half demanded Dori. His starfish haired brother clenched his gloved hands and refused with a wrinkle of his nose.

“Nay, I want to gather information on how that filth came so close on us without notice, and I want it first-hand.”

“See?” Rori whispered to Firc. “That’s how a _diplomat_ works, gathering information!”

Firc eyes him doubtful, but lost her chance to mock him when Bifur reached the front of the group and all but threw her up in the air, an expression of wonder, anger and pride mixed up on his face. His fingers flashed signs more quickly than her eyes could follow.

“Of course Amad doesn’t know I’m here, and of course I wouldn’t let Lyn be rescued without my help!”

Another set of angry Iglishmêk flew from his hands, to what she pouted.

“Then I’d have an axe in my skull just like you, what’s the matter?”

Bifur shook his head, hopeless, and embraced his niece tightly. One more escort was decided.

“Bain.” Called Bard, softly.

“Aye, Da.” The man answered in the same low tone.

“There are several of ours on their way to Erebor. It would be proper if one of us set out with Princess Dís, too.”

“Aye.” Bain whispered back, understanding what went unsaid. “I’ll stay on the hunt. You do for Dale in Erebor to comfort out hurt ones.”

Some more offered to go along, mostly men of Dale, a couple of rangers and Figwit. Culuin was anxious to see his cousin Aredhel, but more eager to stick some arrows in some goblins’ buts.

Kíli held his mother’s hands in his, pleading.

“Amad.”

 “Inùdoy.” (1)

“I trust my treasures in your hands.”

“Don’t be a fool, they’re my treasures too.”

They touched foreheads lightly, anguish for what was to come still etched in their hearts.

“Go find your wife, son, and remind me to box her ears when I have the chance.”

 

000ooo000

 

Kim had slept on her grandmother’s lap, a thumb in her mouth and an arm tightly wrapped around her enormous rabbit friend, which was currently sleeping too. The Durin matriarch wrapped an arm more tightly around them, the other hand holding the reins of her pony.

Dís looked around and checked her other descendants and remaining adventurers of the night. Fíli was dozing on Balin’s chest, the old warrior cradling the lad’s head securely against himself as he urged the pony to take the lead with a pressure of his knees and a click of tongue. He always preferred to take the lead when outdoors and now was doing the same with the nephew under his care. The dwarrowdam thanked Mahal mentally for Balin be both her second cousin and her grandchildren’s uncle with no eugenics implied. She could not think of a better tutor for those kids.

By the way Dori squeezed Rori she deemed the former merchant and current schoolmaster probably would not agree that the way the young Durins were being raised was the most proper one, but she wouldn’t deny the laddie’s attitude had surprised her in a positive way. In that kind of nature the future of the kingdom would strive. Of course after this incident Dori would try to keep his precious only nephew away from the troublesome Durins, but he hadn’t been able to do it with Ori regarding Fíli and Kíli, so… why to bother? Knee had always been his younger siblings and friends’ leader, nothing would change that.

She noticed Gwendolin urging Silver to come closer, and acknowledged her presence with a nod. The blonde bowed her head and tried to explain herself.

“Milady Dís, I… I must ask you to forgive me, if possible.”

“To forgive you?” The dwarrowdam amused herself, uplifting her eyebrows. “What is there to be forgiven, pray?”

Gwendolin looked at the reins in her hands, and the huge hound of the north at her side yelped as to offer some support.

“I should have told you about the kidnapping. It was not fair to withhold the information, all the thing was about your grandchildren…”

“Hush, little lady.” Dís reached out to tap the woman’s hand, reassuring. “You just obeyed the orders of the Consort Queen instead of quenching the curiosity of an old dwarrowdam. None would send you to the dungeons because of this.”

Gwendolin remembered the few hours she spent in the dungeons of Erebor and shuddered.

“Yes, but this dwarrowdam is the king’s mother. I should have known better, there were deaths already…”

“Aye, there were.”

Dís set her eyes in the distance, wrathful. Her grandchildren would be safe home in a few hours, but some children would sleep without their fathers that night, some dwarrowdams would be widows like her. Every life was precious, but her heart was shattered by the deaths of the four royal wards, persons so close to them they were almost kin too, like those of the Company. She thought how she would tell Badri’s family. That was a case she would take in her hands personally – how could she not, when his wife Mun was her friend since they lived in the Blue Mountains?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: Inùdoy: son


End file.
